My Name Is Meg
by Piedgy777
Summary: Sneering Slytherins, riddling mysteries, mysterious riddles, irritating girls and back-chatting doorknockers. Some parts of Hogwarts never change. What's a girl to do? My name is Meg. And this is my Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**Sneering Slytherins, riddling mysteries, mysterious riddles, irritating girls and back-chatting doorknockers. Some parts of Hogwarts never change. What's a girl to do? **

**A/N: I altered the setting for this story slightly so I could make it funnier and more interesting –at least for me ;) Meg is in her 6****th**** year with the main characters; and Lupin is teaching DADA but Snape is splitting Potions with Slughorn so they have alternating lessons. Sorry if you absolutely appalled by that! At least this way I managed to squeeze Lupin in somewhere along the line... which will make someone happy.**

**PPS: I am **_**so **_**sorry for all the obvious and somewhat awful jokes that are littered in this 'story'. I have to get it out of my system somewhere. **

**Wherein a pygmy puff supposedly reaches a sticky end**

Up to my ears in dirt; muck under my fingernails, I figured there were many better and less melancholy things to be doing with my time than digging a grave.

But I was not one for moaning, especially as the reason for necessity of a grave had been entirely my fault.

So, unperturbed and grumpy, I half-heartedly dragged a mound of dirt over the ever-growing new lump, as if I were making a somewhat twisted sandcastle.

I jumped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

It wasn't the voice that had made me jump, more the flicker of movement as the pile of dirt moved slightly.

"Crap!" I exclaimed, falling backwards. The ground below me emitted a wet thud, and I winced as dew seeped through my skirt.

"Please tell me that's not a person you killed." The voice was damned persistent. I turned to address it.

"I don't actually think it's dead." I said, indicating the disturbed pile.

"No," Agreed Terry Boot, weakly, leaning on the fence that bordered Hagrid's pumpkins from the outside world, "What is it anyway?"

"It was –or is – my sister's pet," I explained tiredly, deliberating on uncovering the bloody thing again.

"An owl?" Terry suddenly looked pale.

"No," I muttered, starting to dig once more; suffocating under a pile of soil couldn't be the best way to go, "It would have been less dead if it was; I accidentally pushed it off the divination tower."

I could see my friends was deliberating on whether this was a laughing matter or not. Forcing more dirt under my already caked fingernails, I pulled the source of all this trouble free.

"How the hell did you survive that fall?" I spluttered at the bedraggled pygmy puff.

I think this may have been all too much for Terry, for when I turned round to query the before unknown strength and impossibly flexible anatomy of the miniature puffskein, he had walked –or ran- away.

Thoroughly annoyed at the now needless grave for coating me in soggy mud, I staggered to my feet, hoping Hagrid didn't see me walking guiltily from his pumpkin patch, the pygmy puff encased between my fingers.

It had not been the best of mornings, I concluded, walking up through the rain covered grounds in the direction of the castle. A morning of Divination could never promise hours of fun, or even consciousness; but accidentally flicking the personality-starved pet that was supposed to be in my care for the day out of the open window had definitely given it a higher ranking in bad days at Hogwarts. And as guilt had led me to try burying the wretched thing, I was now irritated that even that had been denied me.

"Where are your eyes, anyway?" I said to what could only be described as a ball of fluff, holding it up for examination. It didn't oblige to inform me.

If pygmy puffs could actually talk, I wouldn't have caught the answer anyway. A loud series of gongs swept over the grounds from the clock tower and I swore. Late for potions. Again.

The loud slapping of feet against flagstones announced my belated arrival to the most dreaded class of any Hogwarts student; except perhaps a given number of Slytherins. I could tell I was in deep trouble; Professor Snape actually broke off what he was saying midstream.

"Which incidentally-but let me just wait for Miss Forester to sit down before I continue," His black eyes glittered as I shuffled forwards, trying to appear sorry. Heads swivelled round to look at me, and with a sheepish grin, I slid onto the bench beside Terry Boot, who offered me a smirk,

"How nice to honour us with your presence," Snape was still giving me a mocking welcome, to which I had accidentally tuned out of; "Five points from Ravenclaw."

With the inevitable outcome over and me not apologizing for my tardiness (I think anyone would agree my excuse was perfectly legitimate) I plopped the pygmy puff on the table and dumped parchment and books on the desk before me. The loud clang it made against the cauldron caused Snape to give me a withering look. Shrinking down slightly, I decided now was a better time than any to pay attention to the lesson.

"I tried to tell him you had a pet crisis," Terry muttered to me under his breath, fighting a grin as he kept his eyes on the chalk board, "But he just wouldn't hear it."

I sniggered.

"Have I ever told you that you are really weird?" He added, beginning to scratch some notes down with his quill.

"Plenty of times," I grinned, looking to see what thrilling topic we were going to be learning about today.

It turned out concocting a Deflating Draught was not at all thrilling. Perched on the stepladder, I stared blankly at the list of ingredients swimming before me; their contents swirling sickeningly before me like some pudding well past its sell-by date.

"Do I need Runespoor Egg or Flobberworm Mucus?" I shot in the direction of the nearest person. It was unfortunate that person just happened to be Draco Malfoy, who was lounging against the shelves while Pansy Parkinson selected what he needed for the lesson.

He gave me one of his signature sneers before replying. He had never liked me since that Flying Seahorse incident.

"I thought you were a Ravenclaw?" He smirked, "Perhaps you could keep that vacant expression and the Sorting Hat will know where it went wrong."

"Meaning?" I asked, knowing full well where he was going as I selected Horklump juice on a whim.

"Meaning you look like a Hufflepuff."

Shooting him a 'you'll have to do much better than that' look, I hopped off the ladder and headed back to my desk.

"What is the immortal puffball's name, anyway?" Terry asked when I had sat down again.

"Um... I think it's Fitzwilliam," I looked up to see Terry looking at me with nothing less that complete incredulity.

"My sister likes Pride and Prejudice." I added, then as he continued to look like a stunned doxy; "A muggle book."

A snort issued from in front of me, and I looked at the blonde haired boy sitting there, his back to me,

"Not a fan of the romantic classics, Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned round so he could give me a sneer.

"Don't talk to _her_, Draco," Pansy sniffed, grabbing his arm in an attempt to turn him round, "She's a Ravenclaw loser."

"At least my potion is not on fire." I commented.

A few minutes later, after Pansy's potion had been doused and she had stopped wailing, I was looking at the list of instructions on the blackboard with the determined air of someone who was failing dramatically but certainly not going to admit it. Malfoy was right; I _was_ supposed to be in Ravenclaw. But that didn't make the jumble of words any clearer. And where on earth did I put the Flobberworm Mucus?

"Having trouble?" Terry's voice was kind, but I still bristled. I preferred to sort out problems by myself.

"Perhaps," I admitted, glaring at the blackboard for being so confusing. There was not a chance in hell I was asking Snape for help.

"You need to put the Billywig sting slime in before the Horklump juice," He told me kindly, pointing to the jar I had placed before me a few moments ago.

"When do I put in the Wiggentree bark?" I asked. I had dropped it in my potion earlier, but I couldn't remember why. I'm sure the smoke in this classroom addled my brains.

"You don't."

"Damn it."

Terry choked on a laugh and stirred his potion. Looking bitterly at his, I resisted the urge to slap him,

"Hang on... I'll give you a hand."

"Wait!" I didn't really mean to shout out the word, but right then I didn't particularly care, "Where is Fitzwilliam?"

I could hear Malfoy starting to snicker in front of me as I put my hands on my head, eyes frantically searching the desk before me. Parchment, quill, lumps of the odd imp gall. No pygmy puff.

"Are you sure it didn't take a fall?" Pansy said, turning round to give me a nasty grin, "I heard you were digging graves today, Forester. Isn't that a bit morbid?"

I didn't hear her, still looking at the desk in vain. My eyes fell on the bubbling cauldron.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," I moaned, pressing my fingers to my eyelids.

"What?" Terry asked, looking from me to the cauldron.

"I think," I said, peering through my interlaced fingers at the frothing liquid, "That I may have just cooked my sister's pygmy puff."

Malfoy and Pansy fell about laughing, causing the other Sytherins to look up at the prospect of mockery. Unable to believe the day I was having, looking after what was supposed to have been the easiest pet to keep in the world; I sat there, my head in my hands. Terry didn't say anything; I could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. How the hell was I going to tell Jade that her beloved pygmy puff was now aiding things in deflating? Although I think I was flattering myself; the potion probably couldn't even do that.

"Miss Forester," Snape's voice broke into my despair. I peered at him through my fingers, and jerked back in astonishment, "If I find this in my classroom again I shall personally make sure you will have to brew a potion with _this_ as the main ingredient."

My mouth was open as he dropped Fitzwilliam in front of me, the purple ball of fluff edging towards my books with what may have been an interested expression if the poor thing had been blessed with a face.

I exhaled in relief, giving Malfoy a delighted grin,

"That's not possible!" I told him gleefully. He pulled a face at me to show just how much he couldn't care before turning back to show Snape his completed potion.

"I think that thing should be taken off you," Terry said, chuckling as he heaped some Horklump Juice into my potion. I was too pleased to berate him for helping me.

The class ended with Snape awarding a ridiculous amount of points to Slytherin for Malfoy's 'flawless' Deflating Draft, and him then taking away a ridiculous amount of points from Gryffindor because Harry Potter had looked at him strangely.

With the minority looking smug and everyone else muttering, I left the classroom, cradling the luckiest pygmy puff in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**In which trouble begins and a door knocker gives back-chat**

At lunchtime I went up to the Ravenclaw common room, with the aim of returning the pygmy puff before History of Magic. If that lesson wasn't a recipe for fatality, I didn't know what was.

The bronze knocker of the eagle at the top of the Ravenclaw Tower looked at me as I approached and I swear it rolled its eyes. I suppose we hadn't always seen eye to eye, so to speak.

"Come on, lay it on me," I said, keeping my hands tightly closed around Fitzwilliam in case he somehow killed himself between here and Jade.

"If you're sure you can get it right this time," The knocked said somewhat snidely, before saying in a sing-song voice, "_I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation and I surround every place. What am I?_"

I paused for a second, looking into the eagle's eyes with what I assumed was a deviously calculating manner, running it's words by once more under my breath.

"The letter 'E'!" I exclaimed triumphantly a considerable while later and the eagle rolled its eyes again. I was sure I heard the words 'As if that was hard' as I walked through doorway.

The door swung open to reveal the circular common room; blue silks and tapestries draping the walls in luxurious splendour. I had often wondered what the other common rooms were like; and no amount of night-time wandering (which I was far too chicken to do much nowadays) would divulge where they were situated.

Hurrying past the white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, I hastily sought out Jade, who was perched on the windowsill; frowning at a roll of parchment.

"Here," I said when I reached her, dumping Fitzwilliam in front of her, "Take the wretched thing. I'm never looking after it again."

"Why?" She asked, all wide-blue-eyed innocence, "What did he do?"

I opened my mouth to give her the full story, somewhat edited to make her side slightly towards my views, but I was interrupted by her friends' arrival.

"Oh, I have to go, Meg!" She said over the explosion of chattering and laughing, scooping up her belongings, pygmy puff included. I glared at it. Oh, for _her_ it stayed put, "I'll see you later!"

I was left looking out at the view of the rolling hills, contemplating the gaggle of girls that had mercifully left the common room.

Of course I had my own friends, they were around if I happened to look. But I certainly did not have them on the scale of Jade. Pretty and smart, people fell over themselves to get into her inner circle. But there in lay the problem. At least I avoided all the social climbers and fair-weather friends. Me, I was content with being the awkward, slightly weird girl who others went to for a good laugh. Nobody ever stuck around to lay anything serious on me, and nobody really was around for me to lay anything serious on them. An impasse, if you will.

But now, free of the suicidal fluff ball, I was quite happy to seek the people I considered friends out before my next lesson, giving the eagle knocker on the way out a quick whack against the wall as I slammed the door open. Its cries of irritation were music to my ears.

The staircases were relatively empty, save for a few lost first years and some gossiping fourth year girls. I walked past them, looking down at the floors below me as the staircases brought me closer to the Great Hall.

"Good day, young Ravenclaw."

The voice was dreamy and tired, and when I turned to see who had spoken, I found myself staring into my reflection.

"Oh." I said with surprise, looking at the head that materialised a few moments later through the mirror I had been looking into.

The Grey Lady gave me a sorrowful gaze, looking dreadfully sorry for herself. To tell the truth, I had little tolerance for ghosts. Of course they had legitimate reasons for being ill-tempered, stuck around for thousands of years, but it was terribly hard to sympathise with them when they were so wretchedly depressed all the time.

"Afternoon," I said politely, stepping onto the fourth floor without taking my eyes off her.

"Where are you going?" She asked, large, beautiful eyes looking at me as if she could see a thousand possibilities that were never to occur.

"To the Great Hall." It was tempting to lie, but I got the feeling she was about to follow me regardless.

"Oh. To eat I suppose? How _wonderful_ for you."

"Well, no," Something told me she was going to be here for a while, "I was looking for my friends."

"Friends," Her tone was dismissive as she glided next to me, forcing students to double back for a moment before passing. Walking through her would not be pleasant, "In my day everything was individual. The word _friend _was hardly a word."

"That's the twenty-first century for you,"

"The tenth century certainly was so very different." She sighed, smoothing down her dress with slender hands.

"Couldn't agree more." One of the paintings added heartily. I gave him an astonished look but kept walking.

"Making friends with the ghosts now, Forester?" One of the Slytherins said as they passed, walking alone in the direction of the top floor, "A loner has to do something, I guess."

"At least I have a ghost," I shot back, "All you have is thin air."

Always hurrying after a retort in case they got the last word after all, I hopped the last few stairs and went towards the second floor, and the Grey Lady kept beside me. It was at times like these I cursed the tall towers.

"Slytherins are entirely disagreeable, I find," She said dreamily, ignoring that I was walking ridiculously fast,

"There," I said, "You may be right."

"Are these friends of yours Slytherins?"

"Good God, no."

"That's good. I feel it is never wise to consort with them. I hope this will give you something to go by." She indicated the large stab wound on her dress, and I looked at it with mild disgust. I didn't ask. I was pretty sure it was a life story in the making.

Racing into the Entrance Hall, I pushed my way past the students, having to deal with getting through more as they all avoided the ghost casually drifting forwards.

"Miss Forester!"

Heaving an inner sigh, I turned to look over the heads of passing pupils. Professor McGonagall was giving me one of her looks, and I was as of yet unable to determine whether it was bad or good news. Guessing it's not normally –or ever –on my hard work or effort, I figured I was in for a telling off.

Why the Grey Lady felt it was necessary to hear too, I'll never know. But I hadn't felt more eager for an exorcism in my entire life.

A flash of red hair caught my eye and I saw a very abashed looking Ron Weasley, rubbing his nose self-consciously as if he would rather be anywhere else than standing next to the strict head of Gryffindor house.

"I need a moment of your time, if you will," She said briskly, and I flashed Ron a look of confusion. He waited until she was directing her attention entirely on me to give me a 'we're in trouble' face.

"I was just looking at the small test I gave you the previous week," McGonagall's tone was firm, one eyebrow raised as she looked between the both of us, "And I couldn't help but notice your answers were astonishingly similar." Frowning, I looked at Ron. He had gone a faint shade of magenta.

"This was further more enforced," McGonagall said, unrolling a scroll of parchment filled with what looked suspiciously like my handwriting, "When, after realising you two were placed next to each other, I then read question 28. _What technicalities would an animagus find when transforming, and therefore wherein lies the potential problem? _ To which you, Miss Forester, wrote: 'They hurt themselves and severed limbs equals a lot of ketchup'. Even more unbelievable, is that Mr Weasley wrote exactly the same answer. Now, this is really quite clear," She continued, rolling the parchment she had been reading off up, "One of you has been copying, and I would be extremely happy to find out which individual it is. And, if you please, why one of you thinks writing answers like that is going to help you pass your N.E.W.T.S."

I cast a glance at Ron, who was gaping like a fish.

Shaking my head at the obvious lack of explanation coming from him, I took a breath to tell the professor on his behalf.

Only to have my sentence stolen away by a high pitched, and terrifying scream.

It was not the kind of scream someone emitted when nipped by a nose-biting teacup, or thrown from a broom. It was a cry of utter, genuine terror; the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I spun round to see the Grey Lady, frozen in place, staring at something, something invisible to me, which was making her mouth sag open and emit the petrifying wail.

"Are you-" I stopped as I stepped towards her. I cut myself off, just as the air seemed to cut her out; as if she were a page somebody had just ripped out.

Just like that she was gone; and all that was left was a faint ringing in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

**I made a whoopsie. Turns out I skipped out a chapter by accident. I guess that's what happens when you watch films and write stuff at the same time :D Sorry guys!**

**Wherein an ogre causes trouble and boys are surprisingly knowledgeable with gossip**

"All the ghosts? All of them? Just vanished?"

Breakfast in the Great Hall was slightly more subdued than normal. Only slightly.

The professors were certainly more serious than normal, talking in low whispers at the top table. Everyone else, except for the occasional comment on the recent event, was happily eating, or scribbling down last minute homework.

I helped myself to some more Cheery-Owls as Antony Goldstein spoke, wide eyed in disbelief.

"Apparently," I said, scooping a handful of dry cereal before shoving it in my mouth, "The Grey Lady did. Just screamed."

"Eerie."

"Mweh." I agreed, chewing.

"And it's not Halloween for another month," Terry Boot said, leaning across to steal the marmalade, "Wonder what's happened?"

"Flikledips disappear like that all the time," Luna Lovegood chimed in, "It's perfectly normal."

Antony's lips twisted as he tried not to grin,

"If _you_ say so."

"Urm..Hi Meg."

The husky voice broke into our conversation, and I turned round to see Ron, looking like whatever he was about to say was about to cause him great pain.

"Hi Ron," I said carefully.

"Sorry I copied your test. It was just it was so bloody hard, and Hermione can't sit next to me due to the seating plan and-"

"It's cool," I said, reaching for the orange juice, "I copy you anyway."

"You do?" Ron was diverted by the sentence, "Why?"

"'Cause you copy Hermione when she sits next to you."

"But you're a Ravenclaw."

"It's remarkable how often that is used against me." I observed drily, but before I could get much further in my broodings a new person joined our conversation.

"Weasley," The drawling voice meant there could be only one person standing behind me. I shuffled round to shield myself against whatever Malfoy might be hurling my way in a few minutes once he was finished with Ron, "I just heard your dad stalled an important raid by trying to take a muggle piece of machinery. Is it true you live with muggles in a one room apartment?"

"Shove off Malfoy," Ron muttered.

"Why?" Malfoy's voice was gleeful, "It is true, _Weasley_?"

"No, it's not." Ron's teeth had come to grit together, so I wasn't entirely sure if that was what he had said,

"Just as well," Malfoy grinned, "You wouldn't all fit in there; your parents are a little too eager; if you see what I mean."

"Don't you have anyone else to annoy?" I said, looking at him in disgust, "Harry Potter's just over there."

"Yeah, shoo." Ron added,

"Hey, just stating the obvious." Malfoy sneered, as two more shadows falling on me announced Crabbe and Goyle's arrival, "I guess some people don't like the truth."

"I'll give you the truth." Someone muttered in a very, very quiet voice. But Malfoy evidently hadn't heard, and with a final smirk to Ron he departed, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.

"Why is punching a git like that in the face," Ron said in a slow, agonised voice, "Against the rules?"

"Hey, if I ruled the world, it would be completely justifiable," I said, getting to my feet and swinging my bag onto my back, "You coming to Defence Against the Dark Arts, Antony?"

"Yeah," The boy said, staggering to his feet with as much toast as he could carry. Ignoring him as he cast a wistful look at the orange juice, I said a hurried goodbye to Terry, leaving the hall.

Walking down the corridors past numerous students chatting, or huddling around new Zonko products which were hurriedly stowed away if a teacher walked past, me and Antony headed towards the staircases.

They were oddly vacant without the usual ghosts swirling overhead or casually making first years freak when they suddenly appeared through the walls. I didn't care about what Terry had said; by the looks of the teacher's faces when they were together, this was definitely not a Halloween joke.

I was left to ponder what had happened then; to cause the Grey Lady to scream in such pure terror. Maybe my wish of exorcism had come true. I shuddered.

"Is that you're boyfriend, Forester?" Pansy screeched as she shouldered past me on the moving staircase. I wonder what I had done to earn such a great deal of dislike from her that she felt obliged to shout something out every time she walked by me, "Isn't he a little too good looking for you?"

"Yes, he probably is," I agreed, "But that additionally means he is _way_ too good looking for you."

Pansy's face coloured at the easy, if weak insult.

"No need to get over-protective!" She finally cried, before we went down the hallway in the direction of the Defence Against the Dark Art's classroom.

Antony was still chuckling at the prospect of being the source of an argument when I shoved open the classroom door, my sprits being shot further down by what I found there.

I had actually begun to like Defence Against the Dark Arts once Professor Lupin had taken up the job. For once, we seemed to have a teacher who could get us to pass our exams. In fact, the lesson was rapidly becoming my favourite subject. But what I saw today was something that could only bode for an appalling hour.

Snape's black eyes were turned on the blackboard, where he was directing his wand, so chalk lines began to wriggle around to form notes for the lesson.

Antony's chuckling abruptly ceased into a strangled choke; we exchanged a look and scurried to find seats before he saw us.

I couldn't have chosen a worse place than to sit next to Harry Potter, but by the time I'd noticed who it was I'd plonked my bag down next to I could hardly get up and move again.

However, he was engaged in muted discussion with Hermione Granger and Ron, who were sitting at the desk in front of us, gesturing at a piece of parchment that looked something like a map. From their expressions, they were arguing.

I turned to study the dragon skeleton that had come crashing down in our second year when a herd of Cornish pixies had been unleashed by a rather incompetent teacher. Peering up at the immense fangs and empty eye sockets, I was interrupted in the study of the long dead beast when a paper ball hit me in the face.

Straightening up, the paper in my hands, I looked to see who it was that was going to get smacked in the face with a heavy piece of parchment by me. But Padma Patil waved at me from across the room and a paper fight disappeared to the back of my mind.

Opening the paper, I found she had written a message on the back of her timetable.

'_Does Antony have a girlfriend?'_

I choked, looking from the blonde-haired boy beside me, to the girl a few seats away. She blushed and gave a sheepish grin.

I shook my head, dumbfounded, and she giggled.

"What are you talking about?" Antony asked, looking from Padma to me. She blushed again and looked away,

"Boys." I replied casually, beginning to take out books from my bag,

"Me, I suppose?" He joked, leaning back on his chair. I couldn't quite bring myself to answer. I don't think I could have pulled off an untailored dismissal.

It was almost fortunate that at that moment Snape began the lesson.

The mood in the classroom was unsurprisingly subdued as they looked at their teacher as he paced the room. It sunk further when Harry wanted to know where Lupin was, to which Snape replied he was ill, and probably would be for a while, giving Harry a nasty look as he did so which slid on to me. Just what I needed. Snape to think I was great friends with his most hated student.

With a downcast expression, I began to write the title, _Ogres and their habitats_, with a nice illustration of an ogre to make it more interesting. Antony snorted at it, evidently jealous of my drawing skills. The door to the classroom creaked open, and everyone turned to see the unlucky person who was arriving late. Thankfully, this time it obviously wasn't me.

It turned out to be two people. Pansy and Malfoy walked in, looking like they were in the middle of a heated discussion. It all seemed to be kicking off today.

Not glancing at the teacher, they sat down, Malfoy taking a space a few seats away from her next to Blaise Zabini.

"You're late, Mr Malfoy," Snape's voice glided over the words, as he looked at Pansy until she stammered out a somewhat snivelling appeal for forgiveness.

"Oh," Malfoy's voice was offhand, "Yeah. _Sorry._"

I found it extremely unfair that Snape seemed to accept the sarcastic apology. Antony sent me a look that showed he found it just as irritating.

Even my wonderful doodle couldn't soften the lesson that was rapidly becoming more and more difficult. For an incredibly stupid creature, ogres were certainly complicated. Snape went over their preferred habitats, dietary partialities and even their relationships with other ogres.

"An ogre can be extremely violent when it feels its relationship to its mate is threatened by another." He said, his voice cold as he we all meekly turned our textbooks over to reveal a drawing of two ogres fighting with another looking on. I found it pretty funny to see an ogre love triangle, and had to stop my shoulders shaking with the sense that Snape was standing right behind me.

"Just like Meg with Antony." Pansy sneered, spinning round to give me a rather ugly leer. The whole class made that 'Ooooo' sound when they realised that was extremely below the belt. They looked at me, expecting a retaliation. I suppose it was like watching a muggle tennis match.

"I may act like one," I shot back, "At least I don't look like one; like some people I could name." The lame insult certainly wasn't the smack in the face I desperately wanted to deliver, but it was certainly better than bursting into tears or gaping like a fish. I didn't want to meet Padma's eyes now either.

"Watch your tongue, Miss Forester," Snape said through clenched teeth, "This is a place of learning, not half-witted insults."

Deciding it was probably best to ignore that particular comment, I gave Pansy my falsest, most cheesiest smile. I hope she saw the underlying threat in my eyes.

_Just you wait._

She did not have to wait very long.

Once Snape had finished the lecture and was bringing around the guidelines for a new essay, I lifted my wand, directing it upwards towards the ceiling. Absent-mindedly, playing with my hair with the other hand, I rotated it, spinning it gently. With a suddenness that took even me by surprise, there was a huge rushing sound and a torrent of water came thundering from the ceiling to cascade onto Pansy's head. Her shrieks and squeals set the whole class laughing.

Looking up to admire my handy work, I caught Malfoy's eyes. He gave me a subtly raised eyebrow and I returned it with a sheepish grin.

"Who," Snape was speaking slowly, not showing much care for Pansy's continued exclamations, "Was responsible for that?" Pansy turned in her seat and gave me a look of thunder. I pretended innocence and gave her a terribly wounded expression.

"Why are you looking at me? Snape just told us ogres can't cast spells to save their lives." Some people in the class let out muted sniggers. From the look on Snape's face, he hadn't been one of them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw." He said slowly, and I paused to try and recall how many points I had lost in the previous few days. It didn't look good. At least I was upping the ante for the next Quidditch match where a win would find us more house points. Right now though, not one Ravenclaw seemed to appreciate that fact.

"Stupid Slytherins," I muttered to Terry later, trudging back to the common room with him before our next class, "Why are they all so smug and hateful?"

"Not what I heard," Antony said, catching up with us, flushed and laden with books.

"Well you heard it wrong," I said before he could get another word in,

"Actually, that's not what I heard either," Terry said, seeming to catch on to something. I glanced between their smirking faces and frowned,

"What?"

The two continued their secretive smiles, and I paused so I could shoulder Terry towards the edge of the moving staircase. He staggered and the two started to laugh,

"What!" I exclaimed, feeling left in the dark,

"I heard that Evan Mulciber likes you," Chortled Antony, leading us from the now stationary stairs and along the short corridor with arching windows that showed glimpses of the distant mountains,

"WHAT!" I wasn't impressed that they continued to laugh. It was either because Mulciber was way below my league, or I was way below his. Most likely the latter, which brought on my next question, "Why?"

"He must think you're funny," Terry said,

"Or pretty," Antony supplied, beginning the trek up the spiral staircase towards the common room,

"We're fairly sure he deluded," Terry concluded with a snicker.

"Ha-ha." I sighed, loosening my bag from my shoulders to drag it up the stairs behind me. I couldn't help but think about Mulciber though. Now _that_ was gossip.

The eagle knocker spied us coming and spread its winds majestically. I snorted and it emitted a harsh croak.

"May we get through, please?" Terry grinned at it, knowing that the eagle knocker and I had a long waged battle between us.

"What's faster?" The eagle chimed immediately, "Hot or cold?"

Terry pretended to think for a moment,

"Hot," He said with a grin, "You can catch a cold."

"Correct." The eagle opened the door, sending me a cautious look in case I whacked it against the wall again. I heaved a great fake smile as we passed.

"You'd think it would get bored, thinking up riddles for every single student." I muttered, hoisting my bag back up again,

"Just read a riddle book, like me," Terry said, sending me a rather devious grin, "Now I'm just humouring it." I laughed, going up to my dormitory to dump some stuff in attempt to make my bag lighter. I figured we wouldn't be needing textbooks for potions today. At least, I hoped not.

My bag much less heavy, I practically ran down the stairs again, running into Padma Patil.

"Hi," I grinned, giving her the 'I know you're secret' smile. It was rarely used on my face.

"Hello," She smiled sheepishly, "Would it be alright if my friends and I ate with you at lunch?"

"Is that for the benefit of my company?" I asked shrewdly, "Or Antony's?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh along.

I deliberated about teasing Antony in a sing-song voice that somebody liked him, but I doubted I would be able to keep it a secret for long, so I just gave him a large smile before me and Terry headed in the direction of the dungeons for Potions Class.

Waiting outside in the dark corridor, next to a suit or armour that was extremely tempting to push over, Padma came over to join us with her friends. The source of this sudden friendship was totally unknown to Terry, but he didn't seem to be complaining.

As I was pretending to listen to the conversation, I noticed the group of Slyterins arriving. Although drawn immediately to Malfoy's somewhat alarming white-blond head, my gaze flickered to Mulciber, who was standing at the end of the group, a bored look on his narrow face. For some reason, I felt my face heat up a little.

It was probably made worse when Terry elbowed me with a meaningful look on his features.

It was definitely made worse when he accidentally pushed me back into the suit of armour and I found out what it was like when it was pushed over.

With a swiftness that surprised even myself, I leapt forwards, leaving Terry looking like the likely candidate for causing the armour's careful arrangement to meet an untimely end. Most people laughed, whilst the Slyterins jeered and catcalled. When Snape came out to see the source of the commotion, nobody waited for him to say they could enter; we all just rushed in.

"Before you all dash in and claim desks," Snape said in a silky voice, "I have two matters to address. Firstly, I have made a seating plan-" Here he was cut off by a ripple of moans that issued around the class. It immediately cut off with strangled croaks as his brows lowered, "Owing to the fact that some of you can't seem to make potions without your friends... or your pets..." He trailed off to raise an eyebrow at me. I edged behind Terry in the most furtive way possible.

"Does this mean he's putting us next to people we don't consider friends?" I whispered to Terry, "How very perceptive of him to know _who_ that is!"

"Shut up, Forester. You don't want to knock another piece of armour over do you?" Malfoy leant forwards to whisper to me. I pulled a face at him and turned to see Snape beginning to tell us where we were now to sit.

Nobody looked very happy. Grumpy Slytherins were soon sat next to terrified looking Hufflepuffs, or Gryffindors who didn't look so brave all of a sudden.

"There can't be enough hate to make this seating plan." I continued to wonder, "I mean, it's only the Slytherins that cause that, right?"

Terry shrugged, not joining me in my stupid theories on how Snape had made this seating plan,

"You going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?" He asked, trying to keep his voice down. Unfortunately his voice was pretty deep, and it seemed to carry regardless. Snape just sent him a dark look over his reading.

"Yeah," I replied, but before I could say much else Terry was placed next to Pansy Parkinson. I shot him a look more suited to someone at a funeral giving a family member their condolences.

A few more miserable people made their way to their new seats.

"Draco Malfoy." Snape said, gesturing faintly to a seat in the middle of the class.

"Man, the next name is the most unlucky person in the entire world," I sniggered to Padma, who gave a weak grin in conformation.

"Megan Forester."

"No!" I howled, before I could clamp a hand over my mouth. A few people sniggered, and Snape actually let a grin twist his mouth. It was more a 'this is what happens when you give me cheek' grin though.

Malfoy was looking extremely disgruntled as I stomped over, slamming my bag on the desk to reinforce my displeasure. I was glad he didn't talk to me.

Behind me, I turned to see Neville sit next to Blaise Zabini, his face so pale I was sure if Zabini even looked in his direction he would pass out. Looking to my left, where the gaps between the next desk provided a small walkway for Snape, I cringed as I saw Mulciber sit down.

Surrounded by Slytherins. Excellent.


	4. Chapter 4

**In which owls are noisy and it turns out textbooks were necessary for a Potions lesson (and I wish Slytherins were not)**

"Turn to page, three hundred and fifty eight."

I looked blankly around as there was a rustling sound of the pages of books being opened; their spines creaking reluctantly. With a sinking feeling, I pictured my bed in the dormitory, the blankets all crumpled and strewn with school stuff. Right in the middle, my potions textbook sat happily, page three hundred and fifty eight with it.

"Urm..." I trailed off, bending down to search my bag in vain.

Malfoy's voice was that of someone who was being gravely put upon.

"What?"

"Can I share your textbook?"

He sighed heavily and shoved it between us. Having expected a more sarcastic reply than that, I said nothing. I suppose he saved his best insults for the Gryffindors.

Staring blankly at the two pages, hands cupping my face, I was extremely aware of Mulciber, just a metre or so away. It wasn't a good feeling. Why did Terry and Antony have to be such gossips? That thought brought a grin to my face. It vanished when I realised Snape had asked me a question.

"Um... what?"

A few of the Slytherins sniggered. Malfoy gave a low exhalation of humour and I felt my face flush. If anyone other than a Slytherin had sat next to me, they would have given me the answer.

"No," Snape said silkily, "That is incorrect. I suppose Mr Malfoy got that answer?"

"Mongolia, sir," Malfoy drawled, and I shot him a revolted look.

"Correct," Malfoy received the approving look from Snape that was reserved only for him, "Fifteen points for Slytherin."

A faint mumble, so small it was unlikely Snape could hear it, issued round the classroom. If Hermione had answered the question, all she would have got was a glower.

"Suck up," I muttered,

"Don't blame me for you being the only stupid Ravenclaw," He hissed back. To that, I actually had no reply. I contented myself with pulling a face and trying to listen to what was going on in the lesson. We had moved onto Calming Draughts, but Snape seemed to think we were not in a position to actually brew anything ourselves today; so he contented himself with reading the textbook to us, seeming to sneer at our bored expressions and occasionally singling out a student to answer a question when he was certain they hadn't been listening. Listlessly, I looked at the words before me, unusually clear with the absence of smoke in the warm classroom. My thoughts drifted to the Grey Lady. Since her and the rest of the ghosts' mysterious disappearance, I hadn't been quite able to get her face from my head. The look of pure fear. What on earth could horrify something that was already dead?

Snape interrupted me from my reverie as he slammed the book shut. Many students jumped. Neville let out a faint squeal.

"Answer questions one to sixteen," He hissed, "And woe betide anyone who gets more than two wrong after I just read three pages telling you every answer you will need." This speech was met with a stony silence. Trust listening to have been a necessity here.

Exhaling tiredly, I bent down to my bag again, searching for a quill and ink. I jumped when I saw a small grey-brown fluff ball; with small ear tufts upright and large eyes that would have been a profound, intelligent yellow if they were open. Sampson, my Eurasion Scops Owl, had obviously climbed into my bag during breakfast, and, being nocturnal, had gone to sleep on top of my _A History of Magic_ textbook. I couldn't blame him.

Fearing that Snape might decide that Sampson resembled a pygmy puff and would try to boil him if he disrupted the lesson, I decided it was best to leave my bag be.

"Can I borrow a quill?" I shot at Malfoy, my tone a little defensive.

"Why?" He asked, his voice jeering, "Do you want to join me in sucking up to Professor Snape?"

"As fun as that sounds, I'll just stick to answering questions."

He snorted, but I was beyond surprised when he chucked one in my direction. Today should be a national holiday from now on. Whilst taking notes, trying to look extremely intelligent, I went to turn the page (more in the hope of annoying Malfoy than the actual necessity for the next few sentences) and was startled when he did the same thing. My hands crashing into his, I withdrew it as if he had electrocuted me. He snorted, and flipped the page over. Sulking that he managed to irritate me when not even trying, I turned the page back. He snorted again.

"Something lodged in your throat, Malfoy?" I hissed, trying not to grin as I met his eyes. They narrowed, "Don't choke or anything." He ripped the page from my fingers and turned it over again.

Snape's voice began to fill the quiet classroom once more, his voice so sudden Neville issued a groan from behind me. I took advantage of the distraction to turn the page back again. I gasped as the paper sliced through my skin.

"OW!" I said, looking at my finger in shock, "Your book savaged me!"

"Can't blame it." Malfoy muttered under his breath.

Sucking my finger morosely, I tried to concentrate on Snape as he picked on people for the answers; always inexplicably avoiding Hermione's waving hand.

I looked at Malfoy darkly as he smugly answered a few more questions put to him. I hadn't noticed before, but he looked exhausted. Dark shadows under his eyes clashed spectacularly with his pale skin, and I absorbed it; reflecting happily that it looked as if someone had broken his nose. I had got dark rings like that when my sister had accidentally punched me in the face a little too hard.

"What?" Malfoy's eyes flickered to mine and I started,

"Uh...nothing." Awkwardly, I decided to turn the page over again. The action brought me into close proximity with him, and he wrinkled his nose distastefully.

"You smell gross." He grunted.

"Well, you're obviously a simpleton. This is expensive perfume."

"Muggle perfume," He muttered, going back to jotting down a few answers as Snape continued his lesson, apparently unaware we weren't listening.

"That's quite a nose you have there, Pinocchio," I said, "Maybe being turned into a ferret left you with some inhuman abilities."

Malfoy flushed a dull pink and a sweet 'ting' issued in my head as I realised I had finally won a round.

"Miss Forester."

I cringed as I heard Snape's voice. Looking up I saw he had come to a stop in front of our desk whilst we had been talking. Naturally, he was overlooking the fact that Malfoy has been talking too.

"Sir?" I said hesitantly,

"Is there something you would care to tell the class?"

"Nothing that I can think of, sir."

Snape's lips pursed at my words, and I felt my insides curl up slightly. Mentally, I prepared to lose a few more house points.

"Then," Snape was speaking slowly, his tone menacing, "I suggest you shut your overly eager mouth."

Malfoy gave a grunt of humour and I felt my face flushing. Furious, I stabbed at the piece of parchment in front of me as Snape moved away, unintentionally snapping the tip of Malfoy's quill. That cheered me up a bit.

By the end of the lesson, there had been so much sneering and jeering that I couldn't get out of the classroom quick enough; flinging the broken quill back at Malfoy and smirking at his irritated expression, I hauled my bag up carefully; all too aware Sampson was still sleeping in it.

"That was a trial," Terry muttered once we were outside, heading for the Clock Tower Courtyard, and lunchtime,

"Tell me about it," I agreed, shooting Malfoy a scowl as he elbowed his way past; fellow Slytherins in tow, "I am never going to a Potions class again."

"Is that so, Miss Forester?" I jumped as I heard an all too familiar voice from behind me. I realised I hadn't got as far out of the classroom as I had thought and Snape had definitely still been in earshot,

"No sir, just joking!" I beamed, turning away from Snape to hurriedly push past everyone, earning a few exclamations of annoyance and a lot of chuckling from Terry as he followed me.

I was not in the mood to talk all the way to the grounds, clutching my bag and scowling at the floor as we made our way past all the students trying to get outside to get some October sunshine.

Antony was already there, looking a little flustered as Padma stood with him, batting her eyelashes; her friends a little way off, giggling every so often. It looked like they were hyenas, closing in for the kill.

"What are they doing?" Terry said blankly, looking at them as if they were aliens,

"Oh Terry," I said in a pitying tone, "If only you knew."

Antony greeted us very enthusiastically when we came over, as if we were his saviours. Which, I realised as Padma backed off a little bit, I suppose we were.

Me and Terry and the others who had been in Snape's lesson kept the other Ravenclaws entertained with the horrific story of the new seating plan.

"She's so shrill," Terry moaned, talking about Pansy with an expression of some kind of war hero on his face, "It's like sitting next to a broken megaphone for an hour."

"Well I'm sitting next to her _boyfriend_," I added, feeling I had the worse deal, "_And_ his book attacked me. I hope Slughorn doesn't stick to the same seating plan when we get him next."

Sampson chose that moment to wake up, causing a few of Padma's friends to squeal as he pelted from the bag, all hoots and shrieks.

Before he caused anyone to die of fright, I thought it best to take him to the Owlery, bidding goodbye to the abnormally large group.

My breath steamed as I walked over the covered bridge, looking at the trees; seeming like bursts of flames as leaves fell from them, scattering the grass absentmindedly. The air was sharp and cold, biting my cheeks and nose; and my fingers as I clutched the small owl between them.

Once I had arrived in the Owlery, my autumnal surroundings visible from the large hill the winding building sat on; my cheeks were whipped pink, my nose red and ice cold. Sniffing, I looked around for an available perch for Sampson. I was certain the other owls took in the lively Scops owl and tried not to roll their eyes.

A large eagle owl; its feathers a shiny, silky black was blinking at me with large, orange eyes from where it had just flown in, a thick envelope clasped in its beak.

Just as I wondered if I was going to have to climb up further into the Owlery, the eagle owl emitted a harsh shriek, so that Sampson gave a squawk of surprise and indignation, fluttering his wings in a startled manner.

"I can't take your letter," I told the eagle owl, giving it a rude look, "Stop being grumpy and go find your owner."

The eagle owl blinked at me.

I had just put Sampson on a perch, where he had screeched with pleasure and proceeded to clean himself, when the eagle owl emitted its harsh cry once again,

"Fine!" I said, walking over to it and snatching the letter from its beak. The owl gave a cry of satisfaction, and hopped towards the open window, looking at the pale, winter sky with deliberation. Looking down at the parchment before me I started when I saw who it was addressed to.

"Draco Malfoy?" I said allowed, trying not to smirk, "Figures." I turned to the owl, holding the letter out, "I think you had better take-" The bird gave another screech, causing a few of the nesting owls to stir and emit a few matching noises. Not wanting to cause chaos, I hastily opened to letter, hoping to satisfy the bullying bag of feathers.

"There," I said, waving it in front of the fierce, orange eyes, "Happy now? You've delivered it."

It seemed it was happy, for a moment later the beautiful owl opened its wings, and flew out the window with a large beating of feathers. I looked at it shrink away, pursing my lips thoughtfully. Now what?

My eyes glanced down at the letter, and I studied it for a second. It seemed a perfectly boring letter from his parents, asking how school was going. But then my gaze caught the next few lines and I may have accidentally read the rest of the note.

_Draco,_

_I hope your return to school has gone smoothly and nothing has distracted you from what you must do this year._

_I urge you to make haste, my dear. The Dark Lord is not patient, and every day I wait here brings pain to my heart. To think what your success will achieve is beyond imagination, so let the liberation of your father from Azkaban be the smallest of possible things that your triumph will bring._

_I wish you luck, and don't be afraid to consort in those you can trust for help. I know you are stubborn and independent, but please get help when you need it. _

_Love,_

_Your mother _

My eyes were so wide when I finished the note that I must have fitted in perfectly with the other birds, so when I heard footsteps I jumped a mile in the air.

Hastily folding the letter, I turned around to see the owner of the note.

Draco Malfoy took a while to recognise me; because his face turned from a mildly intrigued expression, to one of deep dislike. I snorted,

"Thought I was Pansy, did you Malfoy?" I grinned, "Must say I'm a little insulted,"

He ignored me, walking towards the spot where the owls came in the window. I became overly aware that my skin was touching the parchment clasped behind my back.

"Urm..." I deliberated. He looked at me with a tired expression, as if he really couldn't be bothered to insult me, "A really ugly violent owl, that I naturally assumed was yours, flew in and started attacking me, so I took its letter," I waved the letter before him, "It's addressed to you."

He snatched it from me roughly, and I narrowed my eyes,

"Did you open this?" He said disbelievingly, unfolding it,

"Your owl was attacking me!" I said heatedly, "Of course I opened it! I didn't read it if that's what you're worried about; a soppy note from your beloved parents is not what I call entertainment."

"My father's in Azkaban," He snarled, not looking at me as his eyes grazed the letter,

"All the more reason for it to be soppy," I shrugged, digging my scarf from my bag which I definitely needed before I went outside again. I remembered a thought I had had earlier and brought out some parchment and writing utensils from the bag too.

"Are all Ravenclaws such snobbish creeps?" Malfoy was saying derisively, his eyes travelling the letter with his lips twisted in disgust. Whether from the letter or my presence, I couldn't tell.

"It's what comes from knowing everything," I commented, fetching Sampson down again. The owl gave a hoot of dismay as I woke him up.

I hastily scrawled the letter, attached it to Sampson's leg and told him sternly to take it home to my mum,

"And no cheating," I told the owl, making sure he was listening, "You can't just lose the letter halfway and come back pretending you delivered it. I'll know."

The owl gave a low call of annoyance, hopped to the window and took off, sinking down slightly under the weight. I hoped the parchment wasn't too heavy for him.

Packing up everything, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door, ignoring Malfoy, who he was still absorbed in his letter.

I cast him a quick look before I left.

He was looking pensively at the floor, and as I watched, he took the letter and ripped it in half.


	5. Chapter 5

**In which the plot thickens and mandrakes give attitude**

I avoided talking to Malfoy for the rest of the week, and I was pleased that he seemed to be doing the same thing. He appeared rather empty of jibes and mocking things to say in our Potions classes, which I wasn't particularly upset about. I assumed he was (correctly) thinking I had read the letter, and was obviously conscious of what it had said. I was left wondering what it had meant, and conjecturing as to what the hell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had to do with anything Malfoy might be doing this year.

Friday brought with it the excitement of the weekend, and the prospect of the Hogsmeade visit. I couldn't wait to go to Honeydukes and buy some well earned sweets as a reward for suffering so many Potions lessons and History of Magic lectures.

Whilst I was preoccupied with hitting a boiled egg with my spoon at breakfast on the Friday morning, Terry and Antony contented themselves with what they would do when they left the castle, in between shovelling copious amounts of food into their mouths, of course. I didn't manage to catch much due to Cheery-Owls and toast restricting their tongues.

"An' go tcho cha twee bwoostwicks!"

"Mweah! An' Zwonkwoes! Ik knead stwink pwellets pwore Mickal's bwerthdway!"

Unable to participate in a conversation I couldn't actually understand, I cast my gaze to Luna Lovegood, who was sitting opposite me. Over her shoulder, I spotted Malfoy on the Slytherin table, looking rather glum as he stared into the contents of his bowl. Cheered by the sight, I turned to Luna,

"Do the teachers have any news about the ghost's disappearances?" I asked her, watching with mild fascination as she dug a few contents from her bag whilst looking for something. Amongst books, she dug out an odd device that buzzed and squeaked slightly, an array of jars with what like miniscule creatures floating inside and what looked like half a mangled pygmy puff that was probably (hopefully) just a fluffy ball.

"Not sure," She said dreamily, finding what she was looking for (a weirdly shaped packet of biscuits that looked like a small pyramid) and starting to repack the bag, "But Flikledips have been known to spirit ghosts away before. But this time I think it was an enchanted object."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, not setting too much store in Luna's wild hypothesises,

"Oh, it's just a theory really," She replied, wide-eyed, "But I heard an odd whirring sound when the Bloody Baron disappeared whilst he was floating around on the seventh floor." My reasons not to believe Luna justified, I gave her a smile, and was interrupted from any further conversation by an owl colliding into my cereal bowl I had set aside whilst I tackled my egg.

"Wow!" I laughed as Sampson spilled Cheery-Owls everywhere, milk slopping out the bowl. I looked up and unintentionally caught Malfoy's eyes. He gave me a sneer. No doubt his bloody eagle owl would have landed a little more gracefully.

Picking Sampson up by his wings, I removed the package tied tightly round his leg.

"Great work, Sampson," I told him, stroking his head, "Have some milk." I indicated the ruined cereal, and he dived in there again, somewhat misinterpreting me.

I gave my attention to the package, unwrapping its brown paper and thick string to reveal a book.

"Wow." Antony said sarcastically, having been looking over my shoulder to see what I had got,

"This," I said, lifting it up as if it were an almighty beacon, "Is going to save _so_ much time and effort."

"Ri-ight."

The bell went for the first lesson, and we leapt to our feet instantly, realising that Herbology was quite a walk away. Moving hastily to the arching double doors with my two friends, I didn't realise we'd timed our leaving with the group of sixth year Slytherins. Thankfully, Malfoy was preoccupied with Goyle, who actually seemed to be talking. Their harsh, quick tones suggested a disagreement. Unfortunately, I failed to notice I was heading straight for Evan Mulciber until he was brushing shoulders with me.

"Oh..." I trailed off, feeling stupid as he caught my eye. I hastily pretended I hadn't seen him, gazing with awe at the pale sky visible above me.

"Morning, Forester," Mulciber's voice was husky, and relatively deep in tone. I turned to him as if I had just noticed him,

"Hello!" I said, my voice a little strange, "You have Herbology now, right?"

"Unfortunately," His lips twitched, and I think he may have grinned, "Especially now we have gone back to mandrakes. I feel like a twelve year old again."

"Tell me about it," I pretended that I was talking to Terry, or Antony instead of the slight figure before me; otherwise I could feel my face was threatening to redden as I became aware of my two friends' attention on us, "I'm sure they are the easiest thing to look after on the planet."

I lost Mulciber in the crowd of people flooding into the Entrance Hall, and, grabbing the hood of Antony's cloak, I managed to get out of the tide of people and into the grounds.

"Look at you, chatting with Mulciber," Terry teased the minute we had escaped the throng of students,

"Shut up," I said tiredly, running a hand through my hair,

"Dare we sing the 'kissing in a tree' song?" Antony chimed in, a wicked grin plastered to his lips,

"Don't you dare!" I sniggered, hitting him over the head with _One thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._ We continued down to the Greenhouses, laughing.

Everything got a tinier bit worse when we arrived at Herbology and I discovered I had accidentally killed my mandrake by giving it far too much soil along with much too little water. Easiest thing to look after on the planet. Whatever.

Whilst Professor Sprout went to find a new mandrake to issue me with, I stood with Antony and Terry, fluffy earmuffs clasped over my ears whose colour clashed somewhat with my dark hair.

I was humming a new tune from the Weird Sisters under my breath, looking at Terry's mandrake writhe in its pot, when I realised that Antony was talking to me.

"Sorry?" I said, lifting on earmuff from its position. He rolled his eyes,

"I said," He tried again, "What is with Padma eating lunch with us now?"

"Oh, she's my new friend," I said airily, looking nonchalantly over at the other side of the table where Malfoy stood with his cronies, Mulciber looking darkly at his mandrake. Malfoy seemed busy drawling something in Harry Potter's direction. I couldn't say I was surprised.

"But she seems to spend more time talking to me."

I shot a sharp look at Antony, but his face seemed guileless. I tried not to raise my eyebrows in disbelief. Boys were really clueless sometimes.

"Oh, I don't know why _that_ would be." It was a little difficult to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, and I was relieved when Professor Sprout brought me my new mandrake, giving me a stern look as she told me what to do; as if I were about to set fire to it at any minute. For something sounding so trivial, it was pretty dangerous work, as the mandrakes were old enough to severely hurt if heard long enough, and it involved us constantly lifting them from their soil to remove the tangles clustered around their tiny arms and feet.

"There has to be an easier way of doing this," I shouted at Antony over the mandrake as I prodded it with the trowel. He replied with an eager "Yeah, sure!" which made me certain he could barely understand me.

Dumping the mandrake back into its pot so its screams diminished once more, I absent-mindedly decided on the need for a walk to go and fetch some soil; more as a necessity for time away from the screaming plant.

On my way back to my place, the bag of soil mysteriously forgotten, I cast a bored look down the long table that the class was clustered around; casting hating looks at their mandrakes. I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione were talking; their plants tidied up and free of weeds

"How," I shouted to Ron through the ear muffs, casting a jealous look at their meek-looking mandrakes writhing in their pots, "Did you manage that?"

"Hermione." Ron replied simply, gesturing to her admiringly. Looking over at her, I saw her hurriedly stowing her wand away; trying not to blush.

A grin split my face and I walked back to my mandrake, taking my wand out as I went. Terry had seen me and sent me a look that was evidently supposed to be disparaging.

"Meg!" His voice was tired despite being oddly muffled, "You can't just do that!"

I brushed my fringe from my eyes, looking at the jumble of roots in the plant pot,

"Just watch me," I grinned, tapping it with my wand, and muttering "_Relashio_."

Small sparks came from my wand, twining around the weeds and dragging them away. They ignited; and in a split second had turned to faint ash.

"There," I said, satisfied, "That made everything much easier." Cramming my wand away in case Professor Sprout made a surprise round on the class, I patted my mandrake on its leafy head. It began screaming under the layers of mud. I was sure it was growing on me. However literally you wished to view it.

Saturday saw me waking up so late I nearly missed the departure for Hogmeade. Shoving some milling first years out the way, I managed to get washed, dressed and in the Great Hall with time to spare for a something like a slice of toast. I thought it was pretty impressive.

Terry and Antony were already there, with Michael Corner, yawning and eating heavily. Unfortunately, they were getting to their feet just as I sat down,

"Sorry, Meg," Antony said, pulling a face, beginning to sit down once more with the air of someone who would rather be going.

"Nah, you guys go on," I waved a hand before cramming a small pancake in my mouth whole, "I'll catch you up,"

They obeyed without question, which left me a little lonely. I stared down at the platters of food scattered around the table, selecting another pancake.

"Are you a human, or a pig?" Pansy shrieked as she passed with Zabini, Malfoy's arm trapped under her hands. She had slowed to hurl the insult, giving me time to think of a retort before I swallowed,

"I think that question would be better posed at yourself."

Deciding that was the moment to leave before anything escalated (I noticed Snape seemed to be looking our way) I grabbed another pancake and, slinging my bag over my shoulder, rushed out the doors. The amount of students queuing at the doors to the grounds was ridiculous. Filch was obviously being parsimonious with the safety checks.

When I finally got out onto the grounds; being jostled by the tonnes of students flowing to Hogsmeade, I saw a thin layer of frost covered the grass. Pulling on my fingerless gloves, I let my breath steam, looking up at a breathtakingly clear sky.

I was a little bit lonely walking to the small village near the castle, nothing but my thoughts for company; my feet crunching on frosted leaves. I assumed that Michael, Antony and Terry were heading for Honeydukes, and I hoped to run into someone I knew relatively well enough to walk with before then. Giving the students in large groups sour looks, I walked slowly, playing with the ends of my scarf and trying to remember what homework I had to do when I got back. The thought of books gave me an idea, and from my bag I pulled the book that had been delivered by Sampson two days ago. Flicking absent-mindedly to a random page, I began to read it; trying to absorb some of its contents. There was little that could wipe the smug look off my face as the words swam before me.

I trailed so slowly by the time the village came into view I had lost all the other students, except for the odd person running past to catch up with friends.

However, soon it was so quiet that I could hear the birds singing softly in the sparsely leaved trees; the wind rushing past me; tugging at my hair playfully.

I looked up when I heard footsteps crunching through the forest trail.

"You look like that Granger mudblood, _Forester_," I hadn't even had the time to register who was coming towards me when Malfoy flung a sneer at me. I had to admit it was pretty impressive for him to be so quick.

"Don't call her that." I snapped defensively, "Besides, it's a good book. You want me to read you the blurb?"

"No thanks," Malfoy sneered as he walked past me, his scarf whipping out slightly behind him, "I think I'd rather die."

"I rather wish you would." I walked on until I realised the significance of what I had just seen, "You're walking the wrong way, you know." I said, turning round slightly to face him again, "I don't know if you can see all those houses over there, but _that's_ Hogsmeade."

"Oh silly me, why didn't I guess?" He jeered, giving me a blast of his derisive face.

"I guess you were just off to send a letter, huh?"

I absolutely loved the look of complete horror that crossed his face as I said those words.

"Wh-what?" His tone was furious; his eyes wide with outrage, and I gave a sweet smile,

"You know, get an owl, send a letter, like all the students do. I'm not quite sure why you're acting all suspicious about it."

"You read it." His expression was a mixture of incredulity, and utter fury.

"Read what?"

"Shut up, Forester," Malfoy snapped, drawing his wand, "Did you read that letter?"

"Don't draw your wand on me!" I exclaimed, growing angry now as I slammed the book shut.

"Or what?" Malfoy's lips twitched into a sneer, "You'll accidentally drop me off a tower or into a potion? Or worse, you'll snap another of my quills?"

Tossing my book back into my bag, I drew my own wand on him,

"I would advise you to shut your overly large mouth," I hissed, "There are no Crabbe and Goyle here to grunt along and back you up. For the last time, I didn't read your bloody letter. And even if I had, so what? What could possibly have been in it to get you so worked up?"

Malfoy lowered his wand, shaking his head as if I couldn't possibly begin to understand the gravity of anything. I snorted, hoisting the bag further up my shoulder, stowing my wand away.

"Whatever," I sighed, "See you later, Malfoy."

I turned and left him on the leaf strewn path, picking up the fragments of my cheerful mood with each step.

My head was spinning slightly with our haphazard conversation. The reaction I had got from him over the letter seemed to prove that whatever he was doing for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was definitely something not to be taken lightly. I still failed to see what Malfoy could possibly offer him aside from smirks and the worst insults ever.

Hogsmeade was crowded with students; all pink faced from the cold and preceded by misted breath. I headed for the sweet shop; its contents rich and vivid in the washed out, cold surroundings of the village. I scanned the heads of the crowd once in the small shop that smelt of cinnamon and sugar; the warmth flooding through my veins welcomingly. It didn't take me long to spot Terry, whose dark head was visible next to a large barrel of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Coming up to them, I saw Antony receive a Chocolate Frog from a blushing Padma Patil. I grinned at what I was sure to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Giving chocolate could never fail.

"Do you reckon this is rotten egg, or sherbet lemon?" Terry asked once he had caught sight of me. I examined the yellowish bean he was holding, deliberating about putting it into the already loaded bag of sweets.

"It looks more like banana to me," I commented, "Eat it and find out."

"I haven't paid yet!"

"So?" I gave a shrug, grinning, "Who's watching?"

I seized the bean from him and shoved it in my mouth. He watched me in exasperation as I chewed.

"EW!" I exclaimed, clapping a hand to my mouth as I spat out the bean, "Rotten egg!"

"Serves you right," Terry sniggered as I gagged, "Fancy a butterbeer?"

Unable to talk without retching, I nodded wildly, dashing through the students for the door; leaving a laughing Michael and Terry behind me.

I was still failing to see the humour when Michael dumped three butterbeers on our table by one of the misted windows in the Three Broomsticks a few minutes later. Drinking mine immediately, I managed to quench the horrible taste of the rotten egg with that of warm, creamy liquid that roasted my insides. Feeling better, I slammed the glass down, gasping.

"Well, you were essentially shoplifting," Terry said in a finalising manner.


	6. Chapter 6

**In which the doorknocker is bested, Potions goes wrong again and my lips muck everything up. **

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of homework, eating sugar quills and peppermint cream toads; and playing gobstones by the fire in the Ravenclaw common room whilst listening to Wizarding Wireless Network. Nobody was in the mood for Monday morning, where Michael Corner and I stomped down to the Great Hall, looking up to meet a grey sky that was casting raindrops onto the enchanted ceiling. Abandoned when Michael went to sit with Cho Chang, I settled onto one of the benches next to Padma Patil, who was yawning widely.

"Oh, is Antony here?" She asked brightly, shutting her jaw instantly at the sight of me.

"Nah, not yet," I answered tiredly, wishing I had sat somewhere else as I pulled a pot of tea towards me, "He's pretty slow in the mornings."

She giggled at this, and I had never felt more grateful for Luna's existence when she sat down opposite me.

"Luna!" I exclaimed, giving her a massive grin, "I- where's your tie?"

"Oh, some girls in my dormitory took it from me for a laugh." She said in her misty voice as she helped herself to a glass of milk, "Although I hope I get it back before Potions; I can't see Professor Snape being too sympathetic."

"I'll go get it for you," I said determinedly, getting to my feet, "Are they in your dorm now?"

She nodded dreamily, taking a sip of milk.

The way to the Ravenclaw common room was not crowded at all; the reason being most students were in the Hall, or getting an early start to walk to lessons.

As ever, the raven knocker gave me its patronising glance, but before it could chime a riddle at me I stopped it,

"You're designed to give me a riddle, to which I could give the right or wrong answer, right?" I said, giving it a blank sort of look in case it somehow worked out what was coming. That was the problem with metal intellectuals.

"Yes." Its voice was tired, and perhaps a little suspicious.

"So you would let me in if I could get the right answer?" I continued, reaching into my bag and looking for the book Sampson delivered a few days ago.

"I would have thought you would have worked that out after all these years," The eagle said tiredly,

"No matter how I got the answer?"

"It is not in me to refuse the correct reply."

"Excellent!" I said happily, pulling out the book on riddles, "So you won't mind if I use this?"

The raven was silent for a glorious five seconds.

"That's not the aim of devising an answer-solving system which allows you access past me!" It finally spluttered, "I have to see that _you_ got the answer!"

"But you just said it didn't matter how I got the answer," I reminded it with a grin, "And besides, you should surely know that I am a Ravenclaw student by now."

"There are times when I wish I didn't." It huffed, but I took that as acceptance for my new way of getting in the common room instead of having to drag Terry along every time I wanted to gain access.

"Go on then," It was my turn to be patronising, "Give me a riddle."

It paused whilst giving me an insolent glare. I figured it was trying to remember one that wouldn't be in my book.

"_All about, but cannot be seen,_" It finally said,"_Can be captured, cannot be held; no throat, but can be heard. What am I_?"

"Hmm... hang on." I rifled through the pages, remembering I had dog-eared a few that looked like the type the stupid thing would ask. I got pretty lucky.

"Wind!" I said, with a laugh, my finger tapping the small print.

"Yes," It said, rolling its eyes as it opened the door for me, "You must feel _so_ proud."

I ignored it as I clambered inside, heading up towards the girl's dormitories. The fifth year girl's dormitories door was ajar, and I was going to put my head round when it opened. The three girls that were leaving had their hair perfectly groomed; their faces shining with mirth, or perhaps foundation.

"Excuse me," I said stiffly, opting for politeness, "Do you know where Luna Lovegood's tie is?"

They erupted into hysteric giggles, which sent the desire to jinx them into overrun.

"No!" One finally spluttered, patting her eyelashes so as not to smudge her mascara as she got rid of the tears in her eyes.

"Well, that was very convincing." I said acerbically, folding my arms, "Look, I'm a prefect, and I'm going to have to report you unless it magically appears this instant."

"You don't have a prefect badge," One girl pointed out.

"No, I don't," I said, in a stern voice that I thought best resembled a prefect (I wondered how Antony managed it), "It was stolen by a Slytherin."

They were looking at me as if I had just jumped off the moon.

"Look, just give it back, alright?" I snapped, "Or I'll send a jinx that will mess up your hair for the rest of your life."

It didn't take long after that for me to return to the Great Hall with Luna's tie triumphantly in my grasp. Her eyes widened at the sight of it, and she smiled appreciatively.

"The girls in your dormitory are idiots," I said, handing it to her, glad that Antony and Terry were finally here.

"We'd better get going for Potions." Terry moaned, hauling himself to his feet. I shot him a distasteful look at his necessity for promptness, but followed nonetheless, my heart sinking to the regions of my stomach as I did so.

The normal, powerful scent of various concoctions rose to my nostrils as we entered the sweltering classroom. I never saw the reason for the Potions classroom to be placed in the dungeons where all hope of ventilation was lost. Heaving a put upon sigh as I saw Malfoy was here today, I made my way over to him, determined to ignore him.

Once certain I did not have a pygmy puff or an owl asleep in my bag; and certain I definitely had a quill, parchment, ink and a textbook, I pulled my jumper off, my shirt crackling with the static energy as I stowed it away. I was pretty impressed with myself for remembering everything.

"Before we begin, I shall collect your essays on how to brew a successful Calming Draught, and how to combat the side-effects of drowsiness along with a lack of sense of priorities." Snape's voice flowed through the billowing smoke, blurring my vision of him slightly. But that definitely did not ease the pang of alarm that caught in the pit of my stomach,

"What essay?" I groaned to Malfoy in dismay; who sent me nothing more than a revolted look, before looking ahead of him once more.

Snape waved his wand; and instantly scrolls of parchment flew across the room to land at his desk,

"That," Snape said slowly, his tone soft and dangerous, "Did not look like twenty essays."

I leant back in my seat, feinting casualness. Snape's wand flicked over the papers, and they scurried apart as he checked the names at the top of the essays.

"Well," He said softly, "It seems Mr Weasely, Mr Finnigan, Miss Abbott and Miss Forester couldn't be bothered to do the assignment."

The smallest of groans issued from my left. Flicking my gaze that way, I saw Terry looking very disappointed. I tried not to grin at his paternal manner. Ron was looking like he wanted to be sick.

"All four of you will receive detention," Snape said silkily. I tried not to catch Malfoy's eyes, as I could see he was smirking from the corner of my gaze, "Tomorrow night, here."

My heart sank to the regions of my toes, and I looked straight ahead of me with an odd feeling of annoyance at myself. I suppose forgetting about the homework was different to actually _not_ doing the homework.

I listened in a daze as Snape wrote our instructions for the lesson on the board; wondering if Terry would let me copy what he wrote down for the essay. I only really tuned back into what was happening when I set Draco's sleeve on fire.

"You muggle idiot!" He exclaimed, putting it out with his wand fairly rapidly. I lowered mine; which had sprung up to help somehow after I had cast 'Incendio' a little bit too forcefully. I looked at him dubiously for his choice of insult, "You really are the stupidest Ravenclaw."

"Who says it was an accident, you stuck up git?" I snapped, ignoring the heads that were turning in our direction.

"Miss Forester, would you care for tonight's detention to be doubled?"

I clamped my jaw shut as Snape appeared in front of our desk; looking like an oversized bat that had just dropped from the ceiling.

"No, sir." I said through gritted teeth.

"Then I suggest you refrain from using that vibrant vocabulary of yours, and get back to work. I expect a perfect potion from you by the end of the hour, or you will have earned a week's worth of detentions."

I groaned inaudibly as Snape walked away. Looking down at the gloopy mass of liquid, I realised that week of detention was as good as mine.

"Help me!" I moaned, leaning forwards to prop my elbows on the desk in despair. Malfoy snorted,

"No thanks." He sneered, "Maybe that will teach you not to read other people's letters."

I stopped feeling sorry for myself at these words,

"Seriously?" I said incredulously, straightening up to stare at him, "You're still on about that?" He sent me a nasty look, before lazily turning back to his potion.

"Sir," He drawled looking up as Snape stalked past, "I've finished."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I muttered under my breath, "Can you at least tell me what I should be doing right now?"

Malfoy paused to appraise my handiwork,

"You shouldn't be doing _that_," He offered, nodding to my hand; which had just been about to drop rat spleen into the bubbling liquid.

"Thank you," I said tiredly, lobbing the spleen back onto the desk where it landed with a half-hearted squelch, "Before long we'll be the best of friends."

The events that took place after that comment decidedly changed my mind on that particular topic. When Snape came over to appraise my potion, he found it most certainly a very far cry from perfect. Malfoy decided to help by showing Snape his once again, and adding mocking jibes about how he had done it. I decided it was far too risky to lob a rat spleen into his face, but I managed to escape the dungeon with one thing to show for it; Snape had forgotten to give me a week's worth of detention.

"Look at this!" Terry exclaimed the minute we were out in the Entrance Hall, rolling up his sleeve to reveal an inky black stain on his forearm, "Parkinson blotted ink all over me, and then remembered it was magically permanent!" He rolled the jumper back down, his jaw clenching, "It's going to take _weeks_ to get off!"

"You could pass it off as a very large bruise," I offered, then issued a squawk as Goyle shoved me aside, Malfoy sauntering behind him with Crabbe, Zabini and Pansy,

"Out the way, thickhead," He jeered in my ear as he passed, smirking,

"Or," I said, choosing to ignore him and going back to Terry, "You could get into a fight with Malfoy, knock him out and turn it into a _real_ bruise."

Terry didn't answer. I had a feeling he thought I was joking.

We ran into Antony whilst he was telling a first year off for using a screaming yo-yo.

"How do you have the heart to do that?" I asked in mock disgust, as he sent the young boy off; his face crestfallen,

"I don't," He grinned, pocketing it, "Which makes it easier,"

"Are you keeping it?" Terry asked, an eyebrow raised suspiciously,

"No." Antony answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

"I hate those things," Terry commented as he led us out into the grounds. The Entrance Hall was already cold; so the fresh wave of icy air that plastered itself to my lungs was not too noticeable, "They're so noisy."

"Well, that is sort of the point." Antony said weakly,

"How Antony became the boy's Ravenclaw prefect is a mystery to me," I grinned, wrapping my scarf around my neck.

"Maybe as the girl's prefect, Padma Patil had considerable influence," Terry muttered in my ear. It was a good thing a strong burst of freezing wind covered my snort of laughter.

The trees in the grounds were growing harsher and more twisted with each passing day; as if the cold were shrinking them, causing them to resemble gnarled and bent bodies. The wind whipped my hair up around me; batting my eyes and shrouding my vision. Wrapping myself firmly in my cloak; teeth chattering, I wondered how long it would take Terry to make that incantation that summoned a small flame to warm us.

"Forester!"

The sharp voice issued from behind me, and I turned to look at Mulciber, with a large degree of surprise.

Antony stirred, as if he were going to snigger or say something; I turned to give my two friends a quick look,

"You go on without me,"

Terry raised an eyebrow and Antony's face twisted into a grin. I decided to assume my dangerous glare that I tended to use when someone challenged me to a duel. That got them moving pretty sharpish.

"Hi, Mulciber." I said casually, turning back to him as if Terry and Antony had sprinted off on their own accord, "What's wrong?"

"Wro-? Oh, nothing," His heavy eyebrows descended. It almost looked like he was glowering at me, but his eyes were deep in thought.

"Did you have a good weekend?" I tried feebly,

"No. Look, Slughorn is having a dinner party a few weeks from now-"

"What?" I interrupted him, not that I had entirely meant to. I could already see where he was going and could feel my heart accelerating. What would I say?

"Slughorn," Mulciber evidently seemed unsure of whether I had actually misheard, "Is having a dinner party." He stopped as if to see I had caught up. I gave him a weak smile, "Would you like to go with me?"

I knew the question had been coming, and even as I stood there, reeling for a reply; I felt my tongue go dead. I had no idea _why _he was asking me; and I contemplated why that mattered. A thousand answers and consequences rushed past me, and I lunged for the nearest one.

"Sure." I blurted out, seeing the flicker of pleasure that passed through his dark eyes.

"Good." He said softly, the corners of his lips twitching into the most reticent and infinitesimal smile I had ever seen. I stared at them, "I'll see you around."

Whilst he walked away I wondered why the emotions churning around my insides were like the colour of the bleak, non-descript sky arching far above me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Howdy y'all. I'm so sorry about the delay between uploads but exams and stuff has had me swamped. Thanks for all the lovely reviews again guys; you're all so awesome! :D**

**Wherein a dress is delivered and Quidditch has a rather predictable outcome**

I never really got around to telling Terry and Antony that I was going to one of Professor Slughorn's 'slug club' gatherings with Evan Mulciber. Evan Mulciber the Slytherin. It was one of those things that was on my mind, but just never seemed to leap from my tongue. I put it down to the fact I was far too cowardly.

From the moment Mulciber had asked me, time had suddenly seemed to travel immensely quickly. Surprisingly, the more I realised I really didn't want to go to this dinner, the faster time went. Before I knew it, I had only a matter of weeks to mentally prepare myself for an evening of schmoozing, Slytherins, and repressing the urge to vomit. I sincerely hoped Malfoy was not going.

Throughout the fortnight that had passed since Mulciber's invitation, Malfoy had become even more unbearable. I knew I didn't help matters by rising to his insults, or by breaking in the last Potions class and jabbing his arm with a splintered bicorn horn. Still, his need to visit Madame Pomfrey _had_ made me feel a little better. But he was really getting to me; and I was starting to believe I really was far too stupid to be in a house like Ravenclaw. The fact that I was sticking to the riddle book to get into the common room felt like red hot proof each time I held it.

"That's not how you spell 'cantankerous'." Terry said on Sunday morning, leaning over me at the breakfast table to see what I had written so far on my Potions essay for Snape. After my detention –which had consisted of a most boring evening in the ordering of flobberworms- I had decided to get well into his good books (or as far in as an unpunctual Ravenclaw ever could) and give him all his ridiculous essays on time. However, writing about belligerent fungi wasn't the most thrilling thing and I felt my attention drifting as I scrawled ink into messier and messier words; the smell of croissants and tea mounting my inducement to give up.

"Oh." I said uncaringly, running my hand through my hair as I sank lower at the table,

"Do you need a hand?"

"No." I puffed out my cheeks in a huge sigh, "I just need food."

"Have a pastry." Antony offered, chucking one onto the parchment. I raised an eyebrow at him from under my fringe. Terry had started to rebuke Antony for distracting me when a harsh shriek cut across him.

Jumping, I sat up; seeing Sampson crash down in front of me; his eyes drooping tiredly as he released the parcel he had been carrying.

"What the-" Terry began again, looking at the package my little owl had been hauling.

"That's mine!" I exclaimed, lunging for it before Antony or Terry could grab it.

"That looks like-" Antony began,

"-A dress." Terry finished, trying to examine the packaging which was showing a sketch of a witch; posing in a deep blue outfit.

"Well it's not." I said lamely, the essay completely forgotten.

"Oh?" Antony was grinning now, "What is it then?"

"It's..." I searched helplessly, feeling somewhat like a wizard caught in a hinkypunk's light, "A gift for my sister...for Christmas."

"That's at least five weeks away." Antony said, evidently suspicious; and perhaps a little bewildered.

"Girl's get the shopping done early," I shot at him, feeling a little more in my stride now, "It's just boys who leave it until Christmas Eve."

"I thought that last year you waited until Christmas Eve, and then went into Diagon Alley to buy stink pellets and Fizzing Whizbees for your family," Terry said shrewdly.

I suddenly became very interested in pouring myself a cup of tea.

It was fortunate that a few moments later Roger Davies and Cho Chang entered the hall. This morning, they were clothed in deep blue sporting attire; their hands gloved and legs protected from any potential attack a bludger might have later.

"Who's the Quidditch match against?" I asked, whilst a few Ravenclaw's cheered at the sight of two of their players,

"Gryffindor." Terry told me, clapping his hands together with a grin as Roger sat down a few spaces away,

"Well, we're screwed." I snorted, returning back to my essay, making sure the package stayed firmly on my lap.

"Oh, ye of little faith," Antony chided, before turning to Roger to enquire eagerly to his new strategies for the coming game.

The rest of the Ravenclaw team arrived whilst I was still pouring over the essay, and by the time breakfast was over; they had gone to get warmed up at the stadium. Unable to add more than two words to my essay for that whole duration, I gave it up for the time being, and stowed it away into my bag along with my delivery. Sampson landed on my shoulder, giving a doleful hoot.

"You coming?" Terry asked eagerly, sliding out from the benches whilst winding his scarf around his neck. I gave a half-hearted conformation, feeling I could be spending my time in better way than watching Harry Potter completely thrash our team.

The grounds were frosty; coating everything in a colourless grey and green slur. The sky was blank; thick with low cloud, the sun nowhere to be seen. Sampson lifted himself from my shoulder once we were out in the open air, heading for the Quidditch Stadium, hooting with pleasure as the air rushed past him.

There were quite a few students milling in the grounds, all heading to watch the morning match,

"Hey Antony," Padma said enticingly as she passed by with her group of friends. I noticed she was rarely feigning interest in me or Terry nowadays.

"Hi, Padma," Antony's tone told me he was still struggling to take the hint

The stands were already attracting a large crowd; any match involving Slytherin or Gryffindor attracted quite a few spectators, and a few eager Ravenclaws pushed past us; evidently fervent to let the game begin,

"Yeah, like _your_ presence is going to make us win anymore than if you just walked in normally," I called after a young boy who had trodden rather fiercely onto my foot after barging past us.

"You're such an old granny," Antony said blithely, "Let's go find a good seat."

Trying not to step on anyone's toes, we managed to find a place at the end of the Ravenclaw stands.

"Well, this is good." I commented sarcastically, looking straight into the back of taller student in front of me, "I can see for mile-OUCH!"

A finger had poked me, none to gently in the side of my head. Rubbing my scalp, I leaned round Anthony to glare at Draco Malfoy, who was standing with his 'friends' on the other side of the stand; where the deep blue and bronze had been replaced with glistening green and silver.

"Are you looking for a jinx in the face?" I snapped at him, looking to fish my wand from my bag,

"No need to get so tetchy, Forester," He drawled, Crabbe and Goyle snickering behind him, "I just wanted to praise your ability to get into the good crowds."

I looked at him for a few moments, narrowing my eyelids. Next to me, I could feel Antony straightening with interest.

"And what crowd are you talking about?" I asked him tiredly, knowing there wasn't much I could do to delay him from his point of attack,

"Oh nothing," He shrugged, giving a lazy smile, "I just think you should know Slughorn's party's are rubbish,"

"Given that you're too much of a nonentity to know, I won't take your word for it," I shot back, relieved as a piercing whistle swept the stadium; as Antony was looking at me with deep curiosity.

"And they've kicked off!" Came the voice of the commentator; a Gryffindor named Lee Jordan, "And not a bad day for the first match of the season! If it holds perhaps it will give Slytherin a chance for once when they next play-"

He was cut off by a fair amount of catcalls from the Slytherin side of the pitch.

"But look, Angelina Johnson for Gryffindor has the quaffle, and she's evaded Inglebee! And looked mighty fine whilst doing it- just joking Professor- she's speeding towards the goalposts-"

"Too bad Mulciber couldn't be here, eh Forester?" Malfoy's jeering voice cut across the commentary, and I turned to give him a dry look,

"Didn't you learn from that bicorn horn that talking to me whilst I am in a bad mood is not a good idea?"

"What's this? Are you ashamed to admit you're going with him to Slughorn's party?" Malfoy was practically shouting now, so there was definitely no way Terry and Antony decided to look at me at the same time in a purely coincidental fashion,

"Oh," Malfoy said, trying to sound as if he cared, and failing rather spectacularly, "Was it a secret?"

"She's beaten Page!" Lee shouted, "She scores! Ten-Zero to Gryffindor!"

"You're going to Slughorn's party with _Mulciber_?" Antony asked incredulously,

"Yeah, I am," I felt a little defensive now, and I was surprised at the pang of irritation I felt at his open mouthed stare. Did it really matter that much? Sure, it was unusual, but it was hardly out of this world.

"I think it's a good thing,"

If I hadn't looked at Terry whilst he was speaking, I would never have believed he had said it, but sure enough, he offered me a grin, "You'll have a great time,"

"I wouldn't go as far as that," I laughed, resisting the urge to hug him for being so nice, "I would say it will be 'interesting', or 'eventful'. 'Great' is a little ambitious."

"'Course, Davies said my hairstyle was weird the other day," Jordan was telling the crowd when we turned back to the match, my heart lighter than it had been for a while, "I'm sure he didn't mean it- Oh look, he got hit by a bludger. What a shame."

I sniggered despite myself as Davies reeled in midair; just visible from beyond the student blocking the majority of my view. Katie Bell was now streaking down the pitch, quaffle tucked under her arm; little more than a red blur. Even I could see what was going to happen before it did.

"She scores!" Lee's voice was elated, carrying over the multitude of cheering scarlet-clad students, "Twenty-zero to Gryffindor!"

"No!" Terry howled, burying his face in his hands. I appraised him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just a game," I reminded him.

Terry turned to me as if I had just told him You-Know-Who was standing behind him,

"Never say that again."

The match did not last a particularly long time after that. Obviously emboldened by their quick start, Gryffindor were doing nothing but getting better; and even a score by Colin Bradley from Ravenclaw couldn't prevent Harry closing his fist around the tiny Golden Snitch.

Terry and Antony remained sour faced as the team left the pitch, but I, by contrast, was positively elated. Terry's reaction to Mulciber's invite made me realise what a wonderful friend he actually was, and I had never felt more liking for him. Even Malfoy tripping me over as we filed from the stands couldn't mar my mood.

The rest of the day was spent with me trying to finish that cursed essay, with Terry trying to help me, and then me trying to ward him off. Antony seemed to be getting a cold, and was therefore in a bad mood; lying on the sofa and grumbling something about dying. We ignored him.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm bad. I'm so sorry this chapter is so long after the others! I made it slightly longer, as a pitiful attempt to make amends for the long upload time.**

**Enjoy! And thanks again for all the lovely reviews!**

**In which I decide Peeves and Christmas parties are best avoided**

The week passed in a blur of homework; cold weather and a somewhat impromptu detention from Professor Sprout to stay behind and look after my mandrake which was somehow being strangled by weeds again. I felt like I'd fallen into a strange limbo; stuck between events, with the shadow of Slughorn's party looming over me. The package I had shoved to the bottom of my trunk; the dress, reminded me all the more forcefully that I was not backing down. I was going to the damn party. And I was going to enjoy it.

It became harder and harder to tell myself that with each passing week that seemed to slip through my fingers the more I prayed for it to go slower. November whizzed by; filled with practice exams that I felt confident I failed, and the drag of potions lessons with no hope of a new seating plan. Malfoy and I had settled into a silent agreement; we were not talking to each other. We spent the hours in a stony silence; stirring our potions violently in a poor attempt to splash the other. At least, that's what I did, anyway.

With the beginning of December, winter truly arrived; relentlessly cold, and constantly threatening snow with overcast skies that were the same colour of the frost that strangled the grass and trees; making them glitter viciously in the dim sunlight.

Already, the faint excitement of Christmas began to buzz through the castle; brought to life by the traditional Hogsmeade visit only a week away.

I was walking alone to Transfiguration on a Wednesday afternoon. I had just been in the girl's bathrooms, wondering what on earth I was going to do with my hair for the party. I couldn't believe I had turned into such a fussy person; who the hell cared what I looked like? So it was after a few minutes of looking despairingly at my reflection in a grubby mirror, that I realised it was probably better to go get an education instead.

All hopes of being on time vanished when I rounded the corner and nearly ran straight through Peeves the poltergeist.

He was normally one of the factors that I loved about Hogwarts (for the one time when he dropped an egg on Malfoy's head at breakfast) but right now, I would rather have run into one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts.

"Aaaaaaah!" He screeched at the sight of me, dropping the metal pot he had been holding with a massive clang that shook my eardrums, "An 'ickle Ravenclavie! Should be in lessons, you should."

"Give me five minutes and I will be," I attempted airily with the aim of running past. But he merely let out a massive 'wheeeeeee' and dived in front of me, toppling a suit of armour and sending me sprawling backwards.

"Right." I muttered under my breath. Fishing my wand out and correcting the suit of armour, I turned on Peeves,

"_Stupefy!_"

I was pretty annoyed when he dodged the spell, sending a shoot of red light crashing into a painting. It teetered on its hanger, and fell; tumbling down the staircase; its occupant squealing in protest.

"Miiiissssed!" He cried in delight, somersaulting in the air.

"How did you do that?" I squawked in frustration,

"Ahaaaa!" Peeves exclaimed, doing a cartwheel in midair for victory, "Made a 'ickle Ravenclaw confused!"

Unperturbed by the racket we were making or the raspberries Peeves was blowing, I tried again.

By the time I actually hit him, a valuable looking vase had toppled from its perch and smashed, another suit of armour had fallen down the stairs and a window had been cracked. I was pretty sure that if Filch came round the corner right now, he would hunt me to the end of my days. Recovering, and giving me a bow and another raspberry, Peeves swooped low over my head and out through an open window, cackling. Swearing under my breath, and casting my watch a woeful look, I left the wreckage behind me, sprinting as fast as I could go.

Professor Mcgonagall looked up from the notes she was writing on the blackboard with her wand when I dashed into the lesson, my breathing totally crazy; one of my shoes half falling off. Her face was certainly unamused.

"I'm so sorry." I breathed, pressing a stitch in my side, "But I ran into Peeves... and he knocked everything over... and... sorry."

"I am yet to hear you enter a classroom, Miss Forester," Professor Mcgonagall said sternly, peering at me over her glasses, "Without an excuse coming from you."

"This time is was true." I muttered quietly, attempting a dignified walk to my seat next to Ron and Terry.

With Professor Mcgongall resuming the lesson after another stern look in my direction, I looked up to notice that Mulciber was slouching in the seat before me, Pansy in the seat next to him; although her keen looking around the classroom suggested she would rather be sitting next to someone else. I suspected it was a certain someone with an alarmingly blond shade of hair and a habit of sneering to the worst insults ever.

The lesson was fairly uneventful compared to the disastrous hours I had spent in Snape's classroom. The only thing that would make me cringe later was Mulciber turning round to look in his bag to find me doing my best chizpurfle impression for Terry; which consisted of me blowing my cheeks out and waving my hands around my head. Terry found it pretty funny. Mulciber just stared at me like I was an idiot. Which, I concluded as I left the classroom with an armful of homework that I would copy form Terry later, I probably was.

"How about we have a homework day this weekend?" Terry asked me as we headed to the Great Hall for lunch, "Just us, the library and a pile of parchment. Admit it; it sounds tempting."

"It sure does," I sniggered, elbowing Crabbe out the way. He cracked his knuckles menacingly. Seeing a Slytherin made my heart sink as I remembered what had been looming over me,

"I can't!" I moaned, now in full pouty mode, "I've got Slughorn's party!"

Terry wisely said nothing about this and left me to my bad mood until I was ambushed by Roger Davies coming out the hall with a large following of girls.

"Ah, Forester," He said, disentangling himself from the huge party and coming over to me. I was rather surprised to be acknowledged and had to wonder where on earth this was leading.

"Burrow is going to be ill for the next game." He told me, sending a cocky nod of acknowledgement to a group of girls passing behind me as he did so, "A bludger hit him squarely in the face." Unable to help myself, I let out a very load moan of irritation at his words, now knowing exactly where he was going.

When I came back from summer to the school year, I had lost a rather interesting bet with Antony. The deal had been for me to ask Snape how exactly I could brew shampoo; but I had chickened out when he burst into the classroom; draped in the swirling black robes and a leer that I had forgotten over summer could be quite so intimidating. So then came the punishment; I had to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

I wasn't very good at Quidditch. In fact, I was pretty awful. People got hurt when I played; and I got hurt too. The last time I had got on a broom had ended in a pile up in a rather prickly chestnut tree and the need for me to find another group of friends to hang out with. So, it was a rather hesitant me who flew shakily around the Quidditch pitch, only to find that the Ravenclaw team was obviously less popular than Davies thought. I turned out to be the fourth out of four people who tried out for the position of Chaser, and although evidently losing to Randolph Burrow and Colin Bradley, Davies promised me that should either of them fall ill, I would play instead. That had wiped the laugh off Antony's face. Not that his bet punishment had backfired, but that should the day ever come where I was playing Quidditch, so would end our chances to the Quidditch cup.

I had thought it was pretty amusing; particularly as I couldn't give a pygmy puff about the game, but now faced with the chance of humiliating myself in front of an entire school, I would rather go to Slughorn's party with Peeves.

"No way." I said stubbornly, folding my arms indignantly. Davies just gave a shrug, his eyes flitting over my shoulder as if he wanted to be away as quickly as possible.

"You were the best other who tried out,"

"I was the _only_ other who tried out!" I corrected, incensed.

"Look, just be in the changing rooms at nine o'clock, Saturday morning." Davies told me, grazing my eyes to be sure I had listened. Then he moved off, ignoring the protests I was still hurling his way.

Terry was managing to somehow say even less than before as we plonked ourselves down on the benches, spirits at an all time low.

"What's up?" Antony asked, slipping onto the seats ahead of us.

"Quidditch." Terry mumbled weakly.

"Life." I answered.

For one reason or another (I was personally blaming one too many party songs by the Wizarding Wireless Network) I found myself actually getting ready for the Slughorn's gathering on Saturday with more than five minutes to spare. Maybe, for once in my life, I would in fact be on time for something.

"I wish I was going," Padma sighed, leaning against her bedpost as she watched me scowl at my reflection, "It sounds like so much fun."

"It sounds schmoozy and humiliating if you want my opinion." I replied, now hopping around as I folded a pair of shoes onto my feet,

"Schmoozy?" Padma snorted, evidently liking the not so real word, "So are you and Mulciber going out then?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No." I replied flatly, biting my cheek thoughtfully and wondering if I could just surrender and change into a jeans and jumper.

"That's such a pretty dress." Padma seemed to be trying quite hard at a conversation, so I turned to her, spinning on my toes,

"Really?"

"Yes. The blue is gorgeous."

"Then I will take your word for it." I answered with a smile in her direction, giving my reflection another hopeless look before leaving the dorm for the journey to Slughorn's office.

It turned out walking through the common room dressed for a party was a little embarrassing. Where everyone else was clothed in uniform they couldn't be bothered to take off, or baggy jumpers with bed socks; a formal dress seemed to stick out a tiny bit. So I naturally legged it before anyone could actually notice it was my face attached to the dressed up body,

"Don't be too late," The eagle called after me snidely as I dashed past it. I let it have that one. Goodness knows it had to settle for whatever insult it could now that entering the common room was easy as pie for me nowadays.

Given it was just before dinnertime, the corridors were deserted; something I was very glad of as I raced down them; ignoring the fact my hairstyle was rapidly deteriorating in its neatness.

When I nearly tripped over my own foot, I decided it was time to slow down. Doubling back to slap the shoe back on my foot, I jumped when I realised I wasn't the only person in the corridor.

"You realise that by sitting in a corner like that, you look extremely unpopular?" I shot at Malfoy, who sent me a scowl. I had to say my comment was a little bit true; as I took in his slack posture as he rested against the one of the many windows looking out across the lake. I initially hadn't seen him owing to the wall architecture; that provided several small columns to span down against the wall from the high ceiling.

"Where are you going?" He snapped back, "The society for freaks and stupid losers?"

"Otherwise known as Slughorn's Christmas party." I corrected him, folding my arms and tossing a few strands of hair from my face,

"Oh yeah," He sneered, "Have _fun_."

"Why the sarcasm, Malfoy? It's going to be a lot more fun than sulking in a corridor all night just because you weren't invited." I paused, as I realised I would much rather trade.

"Bye." He said rudely, staring at me with the not so subtle hint. I couldn't help laughing slightly, and walked away without another word.

As always when I left an argument, my brain flooded with wittier things I could have said; like perhaps bringing up the somewhat serious topic of the most evil wizard of all time. But I guess it could keep.

The faint sound of suppressed music reached my ears as I neared Slughorn's office. When I entered the room, it was like I had been swallowed by a massive green whale. Emerald curtains draped just about everywhere; hanging from the ceiling and covering the walls. The air was thick with the thrum of music and voices, and cigar smoke issuing from groups of older wizards. It reminded me of being in Professor Trelawney's tower, and I inspected the scene before me like a general about to engage in battle.

"Miss Forester!" Slughorn's merry voice wounds its way through the many others, and I turned to meet him, a little surprised he could remember my name,

"I was invited, sir," I grinned, "I'm a plus one. Promise."

"I'd have invited you in a heartbeat if I didn't have a restriction on envelopes." He said after laughing heartily. Or fake heartily. I was prepared to bet five weeks worth of potions detentions that he would never have invited me; even if he had an entire rainforest's worth of envelopes,

"My dear, you must excuse me," Slughorn suddenly exclaimed, "But I've just seen Mr Potter himself!"

"Well I never." I muttered, not bothering to raise a goodbye as Harry came in the room, Luna gazing around dreamily at his side. Giving her a relieved smile, I took in her colourful outfit; remembering to look for it later when I needed a friendly face.

I had promised to meet Mulciber somewhere in this room, and only my sense of guilt if I didn't stopped me from just hiding in the cigar smoke. So, like a real general, I moved through the throngs of people, looking for a dark haired teenager.

Instead, I got ambushed by an immensely tall, blonde teenager; whose bulk took up the majority of my vision. Craning my neck slightly, I looked up at Cormac Maclaggen, trying to appear happy to see him. I think I probably failed as I forced a pathetic smile onto my face. I suppose my dislike for him was a little harsh as I had never really exchanged anything except a few sentences with him. But those sentences had really been enough for me not to want any more.

"I heard you're the replacement chaser for next week's match." He said a trifle brusquely, looking down at me as if he were judging how well I could catch a ball.

"Yep." I answered, wishing fiercely that I was actually good at Quidditch so I could contribute to walloping Mclaggen's team. Just to laugh at his face, "Have you seen Evan Mulciber?"

"Is he on the Quidditch team?" He asked blankly; evidently thinking that if someone wasn't involved in the sport, they weren't worth knowing.

I tried to reply, but I was trying too hard not to laugh or gape at his capacity for being so unbearably irritating, so in the end I settled for simply legging it. His brain was probably too slow to realise I had gone.

"Meg."

I jumped at the voice in my ear, and turned to meet Mulciber, almost thankfully glad it was him and not another irritating social climber,

"You would not believe how glad I am it's you." I laughed awkwardly, taking in his mild attempt at dressing up in a pair of dark dress robes.

"You look nice." He mumbled, looking me in that straight gaze that unnerved me slightly. For some reason, those words didn't have much of an impact on me, even if he had meant it in all sincerity. I settled for an awkward smile in reply.

All in all, it could have been a hell of a lot worse. Mulciber was a quiet, and not thoroughly entertaining companion; but I got the sense he was in quiet disapproval of this whole affair, something which I could relate to on a large scale. And after a few glasses of firewhisky, everything seemed a lot more interesting. Even Mclaggen, who was obviously trying to get as much information on the Ravenclaw Quidditch strategies as he could from me. Unluckily for him, I was more interested in the food, and talking as avidly and animatedly as I could about how cool Harry Potter was. Unfortunately, it didn't put him off like I had intended; so I was stuck with him.

Later, Mulciber slid away when he spotted a Slytherin friend, unforgivably abandoning me with a six foot troll of a well-connected Quidditch player.

"I heard Davies was planning on a hexagon formation for the next game." Mclaggen was saying; fearlessly persisting with the topic he had been going on with for a good few hours, "Obviously leaving out the position of the goalkeeper. I suppose it might work... if it were true..."

Casting him a look of fake interest, and trying desperately not to yawn, I searched avidly for a diversion.

When I saw Malfoy pause in the doorway, I gave a small shrug to myself.

Somewhere between walking away from Mclaggen and straight up to Malfoy, I decided things must be bad when I had re-prioritised myself into talking to a Slytherin over a Gryffindor. Too much fire whisky, perhaps.

"Hey, Malfoy!" I said brightly, over-friendly as I leant in the doorway, "Crap party, huh?"

Sending me a humourless sneer, his eyes flickered through the crowd; as if he were searching for someone.

"I'm glad to see you tore yourself away from your self-pitying brooding," I continued, seizing another glass from a passing waiter, "You were making it too easy for me to make fun of you."

"Don't you have anyone else to irritate, Forester?"

"As a matter of fact the tables have been turned tonight. Everyone is out to get me."

"I wish."

"What's your problem?" I smirked, "Trouble with your mission?"

Malfoy was obviously relatively on guard around me now, as he didn't blanch nearly as much as the last time I mentioned his epic secret.

"Bring that up again, and I'll-"

"What Malfoy? You'll do what exactly?" I didn't know why, but for some reason (probably induced by the relentless prattle I'd had to endure from Mclaggen) Malfoy was suddenly seriously getting on my nerves. That absurd, all knowing look in his eyes; that faint sneer present on his lips as he looked down at me, "'Cos each time you say that, I have the feeling you mean it less and less-"

"Just go away." He didn't snap it, or even sneer it, but he simply said it with enough venom to make me falter. And I didn't like it.

"Fine." I snapped, shoving past him.

The cool air of the corridor was a relief to my face; hitting me with as much force as Malfoy's rude dismissal. I wouldn't normally care, I suppose, it was just the end to a really bad evening.

"What are you doing?"

The snarling voice failed to make me jump, and I turned to meet Filch who seemed to have materialised from the shadows. Excellent.

"I am going to my common room like a good student," I sighed, "But there's a blond haired boy just over there who is crashing a party he wasn't invited to."

I wish I could say his shuffling, hastily retreating footsteps left me with some form of victory. But my chest felt strangely hollow all the way back to the common room.


	9. Chapter 9

**In which I battle flesh-eating slug thingies, broomsticks and boys.**

Sitting in Professor Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Tuesday, I allowed myself to maintain the wallowing in self pity that I had kept up since Saturday evening. Just like over the past few days my brain now seemed oddly inactive, (or at least more so than usual) as if all willpower to even pretend to work had seeped from me. Now, sitting next to Antony; with Ron, Harry and Hermione on the closest table to us, I was torn between actually writing something about Lethifolds like Antony was (a frankly pretty gross creature that ate its prey whilst they were sleeping by folding over them like a blanket. To me, it just looked like a massive slug) or just staring at the dragon skeleton with my mouth half open, like Ron was currently doing.

I was still contemplating it when Antony interrupted my decision making by leaning across to borrow a spare sheet of parchment.

"What's the matter with you?" He whispered, not unkindly, "You've been sulky ever since Saturday." I hastily covered up my carefully labelled doodle of a Lethifold eating Malfoy to give him a guileless smile,

"Nothing. Just... boy trouble."

"Mulciber?" Antony grinned, practice-scribbling on the upper corner before delving into what was probably an A grade answer, "Have you spoken to him since the party?"

"Nope." I answered, allowing him to think it was Mulciber that I was talking about, "I mysteriously vanished, so he probably doesn't want to break that not talking thing."

"Reckon you should apologise?"

"What?"

"Meg," Lupin's soft voice cut across me, reprimanding all the same, "I hope you're paying attention. Nobody wants to wake up to find a Lethifold eating them and not know how to repel it."

"Yes sir, that is pretty bad. I'm definitely listening."

I was pretty sincere with that sentence, or at least the first half. But I tried to listen for my sake in case I ever happened to come across something that was worse than boy trouble.

For once, it was Antony who distracted me,

"I'm going to pretend to be Terry with advice here," He muttered, still writing his epic answer, "'Cos I suppose I'm pretty prejudiced against Slytherins-"

"You could say that." I replied, recalling Antony had the capacity to throw quite the tantrum when Slytherin happened to shove Ravenclaw out of the Quidditch cup. Antony obviously remembered that too, for he stopped writing to raise an eyebrow that demanded my silence,

"I was simply saying that Mulciber seems like an ok guy. Once you get past that weird grumpiness, and the unavoidable fact he wears green on his tie."

"So you're saying I should apologise to a Slytherin?"

Antony gave a shrug that showed that's exactly what he thought, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit it. I was left reeling at that, wondering when exactly my friend's opinions had reshuffled to consider the emotions of a Slytherin.

"Well, you never know," I said in a lighter tone, crumpling up my Malfoy vs. Lethifold doodle, "He might offer me some tips for the Quidditch game on Saturday,"

The smallest noise issued from Antony, as if he had forgotten something bad, then just remembered it. Throwing him a furious look, and checking Lupin wasn't watching, I lobbed the doodle towards Malfoy's blond head. I doubt he would appreciate my artistic skills, but it made me feel marginally better. Like all of my weird, troublemaking habits, Antony didn't question it.

Once classes were finished for the day, I trekked down to the Quidditch pitch, Terry in tow. Antony had made up something about needing to finish an essay. If my opinion was granted, I would have suggested he didn't want to see what was about to happen for the risk of increased dread for Saturday. For I was attempting to fly a broom.

I actually found the whole situation pretty hilarious, but there was a steely grit beneath the humour I let loose when Terry meekly offered me a broom. For once, I was fiercely determined not to make an idiot of myself, and I would spend all my spare time attempting to practice between now and Saturday to ensure that.

I kept telling myself that right up until I fell of the broom a mere metre from the ground.

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, flinging the broom across the pitch.

"I don't think that's going to help, Meg," Terry suggested weakly, bundled up in his scarf; hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Can't you fly on Saturday instead?" I grimaced, marching across to seize the broom again, "Just wear a wig or something?"

"To be totally honest," Terry said, grinning ruefully, "I'm not much better than you are."

"Wonderful." I muttered, gritting my teeth.

The second time I actually managed to get off the ground, and found that I could steer the wretched thing when I put my mind to it. But how on earth I was supposed to catch a ball at the same time as steering and staying upright was anyone's guess.

Terry left pretty quickly; obviously freezing and thoroughly depressed. I had the hint he was getting annoyed at the constant flow of swearing I kept up as I shakily flew around the pitch.

I had roughly dismounted to try and find a rock or something to practice flying with in my hands when I heard footsteps coming. I didn't have much time to worry about that, as I slipped on a muddy patch of the field, and grabbed the broom to stop me falling. The broom, obviously having taken offence at my earlier treatment of it, seemed to jerk backwards. I was pretty thrilled I had kept my torso away from the ground though.

"Having problems?"

I turned to see Ron Weasley, an awkward smile on his face as he studied what was obviously a rather pitiable sight. He had a broomstick and a quaffle in his hands, kitted out in rough Quidditch wear.

"Always." I said huffily, trying to force a smile onto my face, "Why are you here?" It was probably, if not definitely, a stupid question, but Ron didn't hone in on it.

"Harry's practicing with me," He said, gesturing to the quaffle in his hands, "We're playing you after all."

"Great. Everyone _loves_ Quidditch."

"Are you struggling?" Ron asked, evidently catching the lack of sincerity in my tone.

"If I could fly and carry the quaffle on this stupid thing, I might stand a chance," I sighed, leaning on it sulkily, "But I can barely steer it."

"It's easy when you don't think about it." A new voice joined in our conversation and I turned to see Harry Potter, casually ambling across the field; broomstick over his shoulder. I suppose he was pretty cool when he tried.

"I'm glad to hear it," I muttered, rolling my eyes, "I really thought I was missing something."

"You have to not focus so much," Harry said, evidently ignoring my sarcastic barbs, "You're concentrating too hard; it makes you seize up and affect your flying."

"Tips from the Chosen One," I nodded, actually somewhat earnest now, "Nice."

When I thought they were busy talking, I began a hesitant flight around the pitch, trying to remember Harry's tips. It was easier said than done. The minute I thought I was relaxing and forgetting about the fact I was on a broom, the broomstick would wobble or jolt slightly; and the fact that I was seated on a feeble strip of wood, suspended in mid air came rushing back.

"You're even worse than me!" Ron said when I dismounted, seeming thoroughly delighted.

"Cheers," I snorted, throwing my hands on my hips. Ron flushed slightly, seeming meekly humbled.

"You'll be fine." Harry said with an easy grin that I doubted was anything more than a weak smile of pointless encouragement.

I was too reticent to fly around the pitch again now that Harry and Ron were there, and the fact that I was playing them made me even more reserved to show them again just how feeble I was at flying. So with a totally defeatist attitude, I left the pitch; dreading the coming game more and more with each step.

In a manner that I found myself doing way too often recently, I found myself scowling at my reflection on Saturday morning. A considerably pale faced person, clad in blue Quidditch robes with a fist clenched around a battered school broomstick scowled back. A strong feeling that I had eaten several Cornish Pixies for breakfast was in my stomach; something I wasn't accustomed to, and something I certainly didn't like. Outside, I could hear the growing crowds; and the chattering and laughing sent waves of dread throughout my mind. I imagine the feeling was similar to that of waiting to go on stage at a concert or play. Except at least there was a distinct plan for what to do. Here, my only aim was to stay alive and relatively intact.

Davies had dragged the team to the changing rooms slightly early, which naturally I had missed the memo about, so I showed up halfway through his tactics talk, and received several glowers for it. Only Cho Chang seemed to spare a bit of sympathy for me, and though I would never have admitted I was feeling pretty nervous, or simply just nauseous, she seemed to understand that, and had been talking with me about anything but Quidditch since my belated arrival.

I hadn't seen Terry or Antony before the game, which I was pretty glad about. I don't think my confidence could have handled their looks as if they were about to attend a funeral.

When Davies announced it was time to go, I trailed along behind everyone else; half debating about making a run for it and seeing if anybody noticed. But my legs weren't really very responsive at the moment.

When we were exiting the changing rooms to have a quick scout of the pitch, a group of Slytherins were passing; wrapped up in scarves and gloves. I have to say I felt pretty envious, even if they did have to put up with the company of Malfoy; who I nearly didn't recognise, owing to the fact his blond head was encased in a sleek dark hat.

"Good God, Forester," He sneered as he spotted me, "Half the house must have died before they let _you _play."

I gave a genuine laugh; after all, everyone else seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Go away, Malfoy," Roger said sternly, totally ruining the comeback I had just thought of involving how albino didn't match green. I was pretty irritated.

Walking out onto the pitch, we were met by a multitude of screams, catcalls and cheers. To be honest, it was one of the most intimidating moments of my life; and a small part of my brain, that I just managed to shut up, was screaming at me to leg it.

"Its fine," Cho said soothingly from next to me, "Just stay on your broom and you'll be fine."

"Easier said than done." I muttered.

The orderly filing onto the pitch and the cheering of the crowd kid of obliterated my calmness, but I kept my face impassive as I stood next to the other chasers, Roger and Colin Bradley. Roger stepped forwards to meet Harry, and I let my gaze fall to Ron, who gave me a nervous grin. Finally, someone as pale as I was. We could go whine about the game later perhaps.

Hopping on my broom and preparing to kick off, I decided there was little point in freaking out too badly. I mean, it _was_ Gryffindor we were playing. It was hardly like we were going to win anyway, not with Harry confidently straddling his broomstick only a few metres away. We had technically already lost the minute he decided to show up. However, if we were playing Hufflepuff, I would have left the pitch there and then, at least giving my team a chance without me jeopardizing it by accidentally flying into people or knocking them off their brooms. Just some of my less great attributes when flying a broomstick.

The high, keening scream of Madame Hooch's whistle bit through the morning air, and as one, fifteen Quidditch players kicked off from the ground to a massive cheer from the crowd. Fifeteen out of sixteen, for my legs took a little longer to gear into action. By the time the ground was several metres below me, the commentary had already begun,

"-And it's Davies of Ravenclaw with the quaffle, zooming down the pitch," Lee Jordan was saying, evidently not that enthralled by the Ravenclaw captain's actions with the tone of irritation behind his words. The surreal feeling of this situation bit into me, and I hesitantly turned to broom slightly, my arms feeling numb from keeping them dead straight.

I looked at the multitude of people far below me; all blue and red; their sheer noise almost deafening, even this far from the crowd. Sure, it was intimidating, but it was also kind of exhilarating; as if it was providing me with an adrenaline rush. Already out of the game by willingly flying too far from the game, I watched the players, at least now having some understanding into why Quidditch was so popular.

"At least try, Meg!"

The shout just reached my ears over the commentary and cheering from the ground, and I turned in a rather wobbly manner to see the goalkeeper for the Gryffindor team. Ron's red hair was gleaming in the weak morning sunshine, and I attempted a feeble grin at his words. He hadn't meant it unkindly, but I still felt stupid.

But I suppose he was right in way. I hadn't fallen off the broom, which was definitely something. And if I was going to fall, it would look much better if I did it whilst pretending to be involved in the game. I could pass it off as some heroic action later, perhaps.

I guess my style of flying hesitantly closer to the players as the quaffle darted between teams could only be described as meek. I still kept a little way out of the scuffle that seemed to be the best tactics between the chasers, but I got close enough that one of the beaters sent a bludger my way.

I was totally offended, and my way of avoiding it was anything but graceful as I practically dragged the broom across the air and made a weird 'eep' noise.

Harry's words, unbidden and clear suddenly seemed to ring through my mind,

_You have to not focus so much, you're concentrating too hard_.

Before I could lose my temper at trying to lose concentration yet again and probably failing; I was distracted and just a little terrified when I saw the game that I had so far managed to avoid was actually heading towards me. Colin Bradley was bowed against his broom; the quaffle tucked under his arm, but even me and my lack of Quidditch knowledge knew that with Ginny Weasley zooming along beside him, it was only a matter of time before she knocked it from his grip. And it was a long way to our goalpost.

His roving gaze found me, and I looked in horror as his eyes lit with his new tactic.

Before I could gesture as to how much of a bad idea it was, he lobbed the quaffle towards me, and like some movie, I watched it as if in slow motion, glowering at it as it sailed straight towards me.

Throwing caution to the wind, and figuring I might at least try, I lunged forwards; expecting that pretty soon there would be a quaffle shaped dent in my face.

Except I caught it.

I had to say it was pretty damn smooth too. Ginny was heading straight for me; her face scarily fierce and determined compared to the sweet girl I knew from around the corridors. But because I'd thrown the majority of my weight into leaning forward to catch the stupid ball, I'd lurched forwards from my broom, and the resulting upside down twirl I did almost looked like I did it on purpose.

The fact that Lee Jordan was saying my name was enough to make me drop the damn thing, and I also didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do now.

Then I realised it was fairly simple. With the quaffle in my hands, and almost every player wanting to savage me for it, I had ample distractions from the fact I could barely fly for peanuts. And just like that, I felt myself flashing towards the goalposts, fairly certain it was the one I was supposed to be shooting at, and I found myself _enjoying _it as the wind screeched past me; tangling my hair, with the crowd and commentary getting more ramped up as the distance between me and the goalposts slimmed.

I was pretty irritated when I got tackled.

The flash of red was all the announced Ginny Weasley snatching the red ball from me, and I decided to put it down to my crappy broom. But as she whirled away, now pursued by Roger Davies, I realised I was now focused on this game, and was completely taken aback to be enjoying it. Maybe Quidditch wasn't as bad as I thought.

Obviously, we lost.

Although I had to admit I was getting pretty into the game, and had managed to hold the quaffle a few times, and even wage revenge by pinching it from Ginny, I didn't particularly mind much. It would have been far worse if we had lost to Slytherin, but here I felt like I had achieved a rather good victory against the Slytherins. I had survived the game without looking like an idiot being the main achievement.

So, in contrast to the rather sombre collection of players in the changing rooms later, I was extremely bubbly and happy, going over the fact that I _could_ play Quidditch in my head. Finally, something I could actually do well.

They left me in the changing rooms, and I absent-mindedly fumbled with my socks, gloating in my brain still.

I idly wondered who Malfoy had been supporting in this game. Me, the loudmouthed, irritating and only stupid Ravenclaw, or Harry Potter. I guess it didn't take much to think about. The fact that Malfoy had broken Harry's nose in at the beginning of term leant to hint that he didn't really like him much. He hadn't reached the nose smashing stage with me. Yet.

I wish I didn't think about him so much; it was almost as irritating as he was. It was like some small part of me really enjoyed our sparring matches, and that part of me couldn't be shut up, no matter how I tried. There was nothing wrong with getting the best with him, but it was almost like I was addicted to it. I needed some serious help.

"Hey, Forester."

I didn't need any amount of magic to know that Mulciber had just walked in, and I was eternally glad that I was actually finished dressing by that point, so I peered up through my hair to give him my best apologetic smile.

"Hey, Evan," I said, and I think he blanched slightly at the use of his first name. Slytherins were weird like that, I guessed. They never seemed to address eachother by their first names. "How are you?" He may have opened his mouth to reply, but I interrupted him by falling over my own tongue as usual, "Look, I'm really sorry for leaving at Slughorn's party, but I was really tired. It wasn't like I had a bad time or anything. Sorry, it was pretty rude." Owing to the fact I thought I had had a hideous time that evening, I decided to tell a small white lie. It was hardly Mulciber's fault I didn't enjoy the evening. Again, I wondered why I let Malfoy get to me so easily.

"Don't worry about it." He shrugged, "I figured you were a little tipsy; you seemed to be drinking a lot."

"Oh." I said. There, I was drunk. That's why I had been annoyed at Malfoy. What did I care if he had been short with me?

"Would you like to come into Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?" Mulciber asked casually, oblivious to my brain settling a few scores, "It's the last trip before Christmas."

I hesitated. Mulciber actually seemed like a pretty decent guy, even if he was in a bad house. And like Antony had said, he didn't appear like the idiots who gave Slytherin a bad name. And I shouldn't let his house get to me, me of all people. I certainly knew what it was like not living up to the reputation of a house. Besides, I was pretty elated right now; I had (in my mind) won at Quidditch, it was nearly Christmas, and right here was a reasonably nice person expressing interest in me. I let the fact I had thought of the word 'reasonably' in my description escape my mind for the minute.

"Yeah, I'd really like that." I grinned, and I actually felt myself meaning it. I could do a hell of a lot worse than Mulciber, I decided. And it wasn't exactly like guys ever fell over themselves for me. And I had to admit, that in the minute, when he gave me a small, genuine smile, he was quite attractive. Underneath all the teenage angst and broodiness.

"Good." He said, and the happiness that radiated from that one word made me smile.


	10. Chapter 10

****Again thanks for all the lovely comments, people! You are making writing this story totally worthwhile, and I wish I could find the time to hug every one of you. In the least creepy way possible.****

**Wherein I get attacked by snowballs, and a really crazy plan.**

I woke up Sunday morning full to the brim with happiness. Encased in my duvet, I shuffled out of it; grimacing as my bare feet touched the cold, stone floor. Stretching dramatically, I peered out the window, and did a double take as I saw the thin layer of snow covering the school grounds stretching out several stories below. My mood improved even more vastly at the prospect of snowballs and remaking snowmen that Antony and I had once scattered across the clock tower courtyard; giving them hooked noses and sneakily creating a mini Snape army to scare people. Unfortunately they had melted strangely quickly. Owing to the fact their destruction had coincided with me seeing Snape walk past us on the way to Hogsmeade, I had the feeling that he had probably burnt them.

Last night had been pretty good, at least in my opinion. Whereas the rest of the Ravenclaw team had been fairly devastated on their defeat, I was elated, and while hardly anyone had seemed to care that I was a decent Quidditch player, Terry and Antony had been thrilled for me.

That, on top of the fact that I was going now into Hogsmeade just before Christmas had me practically skipping down to the Great Hall, armed with a thick scarf; hooded duffle coat and my feet wrapped thick socks and stuffed into wellington boots. I was totally prepared for a day trip through the snow.

I was not prepared, however, for the face full of snow I received upon entering the hall.

I gave a very high pitched shriek; partly because the snow was _really_ cold, but mainly because I really had not seen that coming. I swear Divination was supposed to at least hint at the probability of this kind of thing. Shaking the snow from my face, and feeling the skin there nervously start to come back to life, I met the faces of a few laughing Slytherins.

"And who would have thought you played Quidditch yesterday with reflexes like _that, _Forester_._ Are you sure you didn't get someone to play for you?" Pansy Parkinson squealed happily. Judging from the fact she was wiping down her hands on her jacket, I came to the conclusion she was the culprit for the reason my face was now freezing.

"I sincerely hope you get frost bite," I shot at her, not feeling quite up to my usual standards of retorts. I think it was owed to the odd feeling that my face was melting. Not waiting for her to reply, I shoved past her, hurrying along to the Ravenclaw table and seizing the nearest jug full of hot contents that I could find. Pressing it to my face, I relaxed again; absent-mindedly looking up at the Slytherin table.

With idiots like Pansy and crew leaving the hall, I took a while to notice that Malfoy was actually sitting there alone. I naturally had assumed he was with her, and I found it weird he was sitting alone, for once not hurling insults or gloating at anybody. Maybe they had all realised just how irritating he was. I realised I was getting dangerously close to focusing too intently on him for weird, abnormal reasons, and, grabbing a slice of toast, I dashed to the doors; not bothering to wait for Terry and Antony; who were probably going to be sleeping for a good few more hours.

I was meeting Mulciber just outside the castle in the clock tower courtyard, where I had to maintain cautiousness; as snowballs were flying everywhere; particularly owed to Fred and George Weasley, who were enchanting them to ricochet around the courtyard; hitting people on the backs of their heads with soft 'thlumps'.

Wrapped up tightly, with my hood up and scarf pulled up to my nose, I think Mulciber nearly walked past me. But the smile he shot me when he recognised the top half of my face was friendly; and had me hastily readjusting my look to a more attractive one. Yanking the scarf down, I returned the grin.

We walked towards Hogsmeade, filling the air that had the distinct silence of falling snow with small talk. And for my part, goofy jokes when I felt awkward.

When we were nearly entering the town, I realised we had caught up with a group of students clad in dark clothing; bundled out in scarves and hats too. I groaned inwardly as I recognised the back of Pansy's head. I could handle her rubbish insults, and just about take care of her throwing snowballs. But her seeing me with Mulciber was something I'm not sure I could handle. It was an angle I was totally unprepared in handling. Luckily, they hadn't turned around and therefore had not noticed us; and I searched around for something to lead us towards, and away from them.

"Zonkos!" I finally exclaimed, gesturing towards the gaudy, vivid window display that was a stark contrast to the washed out surroundings filled with falling snow.

To be honest, Zonkos was the last place I would expect to see someone quiet and withdrawn like Mulciber, but he followed me none the less, with only a slightly small frown to show his reluctance.

I ended up buying some stink pellets and a fanged Frisbee, just for something to buy. I supposed, after Antony's enthusiastic reaction to the yo-yo he had confiscated a few weeks ago, I was thinking along the lines of handing this to him for his Christmas present.

The snow was falling heavier when we exited the shop, with me clutching a bag even gaudier than the shop window. My teeth immediately started chattering, and I was contemplating putting my scarf over my face again when Mulciber spoke.

"Let's go in here." He said softly, touching my arm to grab my attention and show where he was looking.

I followed his eyes to a shop sign that was squeaking slightly in the freezing wind. Below what was already a pretty impressive pile of snow, I made out the words _Mishengl's Books and Scrolls_.

"Books?" I read hesitantly, already feeling lost. Hell, the last time I had read something and enjoyed it... well. Mulciber ignored my rather horrified comment, and lead me into the shop. The musty smell of pages bound in leather casing met my nostrils; and even I had to admit they smelled pretty good. Definitely a lot better than those potions books that smelled like entrails and sulphur. Unless that was just Malfoy.

I trailed behind Mulciber, receiving a look from the owner (Mishengl, I presumed) that seemed to agree with me that I did not belong here.

"Why are we here?" I hissed in my quietest voice, bringing my scarf over my mouth in a over exaggerated attempt at being silent. I hoped that would satisfy Mishengl.

"I love reading." Mulciber murmured quietly, brushing the backs of some of the books' spines gently. I was surprised at his display of preferences. It was really the first time he had let me in on something like this, and it felt a little weird. And yet it was nice weird.

"That's why I never see you at lunch, then," I grinned, leaning against one of the bookshelves and absent-mindedly playing with the ends of my scarf, "You were holed up in a library."

"And I doubt you would have a clue where it is."

The laugh I gave to this comment was obviously too loud, as I was shushed by Mishengl. Before I could respond with a loud whisper on the trustworthiness of bookshops with stupid, long names, Mulciber shoved a book under my nose.

"Have you read it?"

"No." I said, barely glancing at the cover.

"It's good." In his typical, never-saying-much way, he didn't elaborate. I peered closer at the book in his hands, which gave me little indication of the plot by simply presenting me with gold lettering.

"I'll get it for you." Mulciber finally concluded, and I looked curiously at the small, wry smile curling the edges of his lips, "You'll enjoy it."

"Doubtful," I muttered when he wasn't listening, but couldn't help but feel a little warm inside as he took the book to the counter. That was the first time anyone had bought me something when it wasn't a special occasion. Unless you count my sister when she bought me a pygmy puff then had promptly given it to herself. That turned out to be more of a mercy that I had not realised at the time.

"You seem awfully keen in getting me to read something." I teased as we exited Mishengl's shop, "Are you trying to make me a good student? Because I think you should know that's a long lost cause."

Mulciber let out a small laugh, almost inaudible with the loud, fierce wind.

Although his laugh was hard for my ears to hear, the loud chorus of jeers and catcalls, however, I managed to catch. Turning slightly, I caught sight of a few my least favourite people ever. Pansy was leading them, and although they were walking away; the fact that they kept glancing over their shoulders at us left me in little doubt who the shouting had been aimed at.

"Yay, Slytherins," I said unenthusiastically, promptly forgetting whose company I was in. The fact that Mulciber sent me a pretty amused look was lost on me as I looked after Pansy and her gang. Instead, I once again picked up on the fact that Malfoy had not been among them, and as we slowly began the walk back to the castle, I decided that Mulciber's connections to Slytherin might not be an entirely bad thing.

"Hey, you're in Malfoy's house," I said thoughtfully, absent-mindedly rubbing my nose to warm it up, "Has he been acting at all weird lately?"

"I don't talk to him." Mulciber spoke in a way that showed he had absolutely no intention of ever talking to Malfoy. His tone almost made me feel a little awkward for bringing it up. But I was determined.

"Yeah, but you see him," I persisted, giving him my best attempt at a charming, guileless smile. I doubted it made much difference. Mulciber's face remained impassive, "You must be able to see he's being a bit weird this year."

Mulciber shrugged,

"His father failed the Dark Lord and now his family is disgraced," He spoke softly, and I felt a slight prickle of unease his almost tender way of phrasing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name. I wished we could all call him Voldie to save the breath.

"Among Death Eaters, maybe," I said, refusing to let Mulciber put this down to Malfoy's family. I knew he was up to something, and I wanted proof, "But surely that wouldn't affect him here?"

"Meg," The fact that he said my first name made me reel slightly, "He's in Slytherin house. About seventy percent of the students have someone in their family who is involved with the Dark Lord in some way. Of _course _his family's actions affect him here."

There it was again, me missing the obvious. I wondered if Malfoy's secret was staring me in the face. I would probably never even realise.

His words sent me on a different train of thought; one I was way too cowardly to ask. Was anyone in Mulciber's family linked to the Dark Lord? Damn. I was starting to call him that too.

I was too caught up in my thoughts to really provide Mulciber with particularly fascinating conversation on the trip back to the castle, and he said goodbye in his normal, slightly awkward and anti-social way once we made it into the Entrance Hall. I had long ago accepted that Mulciber was not one for goodbye hugs, or high fives. Or even handshakes.

I trudged back towards the Ravenclaw tower with my mood contemplative. My brief conversation with Mulciber over Malfoy had opened up a world of possibilities I had never really factored in. Was Malfoy being pressured to do something by his friends? I debated that 'friends' was probably a small exaggeration on Malfoy's relationship with his fellow Slytherins. I could hardly imagine them all having movie nights and secret sharing. The letter I had read presented me with the logical fact that You-Know-Who needed him to do something. But what? Stupid déjà vu. I really needed some new information instead of theories.

And then, in a pretty weird moment, I realised how determined I was to find out what Malfoy was up to. And nothing short of You-Know-Who himself coming up to me and telling me to mind my own business was going to stop me.


	11. Chapter 11

**In which I give an impromptu haircut and completely fail to get on Snape's good side.**

Despite the fact that I had potions with Snape on Monday morning, I was in a pretty light-hearted mood. Still not over my awesomeness at being a great Quidditch player (I think my actions multiplied in their greatness each time I thought of them) I headed down to the dungeons through the Grand Staircases, definitely very upbeat for someone who was about to be cut off from sunlight for the next few hours.

I was also pretty pleased with myself for trying to get to the bottom of the whole Malfoy mystery. It gave me something to occupy my time with until Christmas. And honestly, anything to get me out of doing that Transfiguration essay.

My initial plan was to lose all dignity and completely stalk him, but something told me subtlety was probably required if I was going to make any headway. Something I'd been told was not my greatest attribute. And considering that Terry and Antony didn't have much in the way of extreme muscle to help me, it seemed violence wasn't the answer either. Mores the pity.

I was just a little distracted from my scheming when the Fat Friar floated out from a painting, heading straight for me.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, falling backwards. I hit the edge of the banister, grazing my thigh, and released a string of swearwords that if they'd been heard by anyone spare the wispy, smoky human before me, would have probably earned me several more detentions to add into my ever growing list. The ghost observed me meekly, his face all that was showing as it peered out from the wall.

"Did I startle you, young Ravenclaw?" He asked, sounding concerned,

"You're supposed to be dead!" Those words were probably the most stupid thing I could have said. Ever. But I was really very surprised.

"I _am_ dead." The friar observed, sounding slightly put out.

"No... but like... _exorcised_ dead." I spluttered, rubbing my bruised skin and trying to make sense of this. How had a now undead dead ghost not made school gossip? I was sure someone like Padma would spread this kind of thing around, "You vanished!"

"Ghosts can do that too." He put in mildly. Smartarse. I glared at him.

"So you were just all hiding from everyone?" I said mockingly, hoisting my bag up my shoulder impatiently. I was definitely going to be late again, "For a laugh? Is that how ghosts get their kicks?"

The Fat Friar looked rather miffed at my debunking tone, and obviously trying to make me more serious, he lowered his brow,

"We've experienced what the living could not these past few weeks," He said in an ominous voice, and I interrupted before he could get any further,

"More than usual? 'Cos I don't think many of us living people can materialise through walls."

He closed his mouth which had been ready to tell me more horrific stories, and I figured I wouldn't get much in the way of an explanation from him now.

"Well, if its attention you want, you sure got it." I concluded, giving him a casual, two-fingered salute goodbye. I was met with a great deal of muttering; the words 'rudeness and 'in my day' having particular prominence as I hopped down the stairs.

Despite my flippant attitude, I was definitely surprised at the ghosts' casual re-emergence into Hogwarts life. It was as if nothing had happened. And it wasn't as if the teachers had given away anything about their disappearance anyway. As Terry had mentioned to me one time; it was either because they didn't know anything, or it just wasn't our business. Or both.

Either way, it seemed Hogwarts was back to normal now. Except Malfoy and his weird lack of smarminess. That would definitely have to be fixed if I was to get my Hogwarts back to the way I knew and liked it. It seemed somewhere along the line, I had decided slamming insults into Malfoy was a great part of my day.

The potions classroom door slammed so loudly against the stone as I threw it open that quite a few people jumped. Nobody could say I didn't know how to make an entrance. Unless it was a quiet one. I'd once tried the attempt at sidling into class when I thought Snape had his back turned. It had never worked.

"Sorry I'm late!" I exclaimed, "I had a run in with-"

"If I deducted house points for every time you were late, Miss Forester," Snape said in a dangerously low voice, interrupting and regarding me with those cold eyes of his, "Ravenclaw's would be in negatives."

Pansy and a few of the Slytherins let out low sniggers and chuckles. After a scan to see who would be getting a snowball thrown in their face by me later, I noticed that Malfoy actually hadn't been one of them. He was just staring ahead of him, looking torn between irritated and pensive.

I decided it was better to not point out that I _did _lose house points whenever I was late and just hurried over to my seat.

Before, I had regarded being sat near Mulciber as a sign that the universe hated me. But now, he gave me a small, hesitant smile. I returned it with a large, probably idiotic one. While Snape rattled off a list of instructions for today's lesson, I preoccupied myself with arranging my things in a near pile around my cauldron, taking great care to cross over the invisible line that separated me and Malfoy's work area. The silent ways to annoy people were always up in my favourites.

When Snape at last deemed us ready to make our potions (the name of which had been rather lost on me as I carefully piled my two ink wells on top of each other near Malfoy's elbow) there was the usual scrabble to get to the ingredients and claim the best ones first. Let me tell you, you do _not_ want to be stuck with the last, gunky, slightly past its sell-by date bat spleen.

I came back with an armful of random ingredients to find my tidy arrangement in ruins.

"What has happened?" I cried in mock sorrow, tipping my armful of wiggentree bark, asphodel and belladonna on top of the mess. Malfoy sent me a smirk with a hint of its former malice to show me exactly what had happened. Maybe the key to getting him back to normal was annoying the hell out of him. Well, that worked for me.

Padma, who was working on the benches in front of me, turned around to see what all my noise and clanking of jars had been about. Although, I got the feeling she was about to start a conversation with something totally unrelated to my lack of grace and silence.

"How are you and your friends?" She asked, her slightly suggestive smile telling me she was talking about one friend in particular.

"He's good." I replied with a perceptive look in her direction, and received a small blush to show I had been on the right lines, "Have you guys been talking?"

It was probably a good thing I had cottoned on to Padma's intentions so quickly, as Pansy had stopped by to talk to Malfoy, and her eyes were on the two of us. The last thing I needed was for her to go around telling everyone that Padma and Antony were going out. As oblivious as he may be, that would really let the cat out the bag.

Padma gave a shrug, looking a little put out,

"Not as much as I would like. I don't think he really has much of a clue."

"That's because he's a _boy_." I directed the last word at Malfoy, who sent me an unimpressed look. Lobbing a sprig of belladonna into my boiling liquid and feeling rather artistic for straying from the instructions, I turned towards Padma again. Her problem remaining unresolved, I decided to add a helping hand,

"I can always drop him a very unsubtle hint." I offered, grinning as I now dumped some flobberworm mucus into my potion. I had meant it as a joke, but I caught the gleam of hope in Padma's eyes.

"Would you?" She asked, looking thrilled. Oops. Me and my big mouth. Caught out, I gave her a smile that she seemed to take for confirmation, and hastily changed the subject.

"So I just ran into the Fat Friar," I said quickly, chucking little sprinkles of asphodel into my potion,

"The ghost?" It wasn't Padma who had spoken, but Malfoy. He was looking pretty surprised, as he studied me; almost as if he expected me to be lying.

"No. The obese religious man." I snorted, sending him an amused look, "Of course the ghost. How many friars do you know that come here?"

Malfoy didn't reply, and looked, if possible, even more put out.

"I thought they'd all vanished!" Padma gasped, re-entering the conversation with wide eyes,

"Me too," I admitted, still feeling Malfoy's eyes on me, "But, apparently not. He practically leapt out a painting at me."

Before any of us could get much further with this news (Padma was currently scanning the room, probably looking for Lavender to spread this gossip) Snape made one of his famous circles of the desks; sneering at Gryffindor's contents, and praising Slytherin's. Realising I was in no place to present my potion (which had somehow started to smoke quite alarmingly) I decided to escape in the fake pursuit of more important ingredients. Besides, Malfoy's expression was a little annoying; as if he knew so many secrets, that were causing his eyebrows to scrunch together.

Casually sauntering in the opposite direction to Snape, I ambled past Dean and Seamus' table. Whilst judging how they really lucked out in being placed next to each other, I spied a massive cluster of knotgrass by Seamus' elbow. Seeing Snape pass by Malfoy, I gave a mental shrug and headed over to Seamus,

"Can I use this?" I asked brightly, holding it up for him to see, interrupting their conversation, of which I caught the words 'football with brooms' and 'would be so cool'.

"Only if you bring it back." Seamus said with an easy grin, evidently not bothered about the potion in front of him that looked dangerously like exploding.

"You should be a comedian, Seamus, with humour like _that_." Dean sniggered, and I left just as a perplexed Ron asked exactly what a comedian was. Something told me that was going to be a long conversation. Besides, I didn't want to be around when that boiling liquid went up in a cloud of smoke. Seamus had always had a slightly inconvenient habit of blowing things up.

"Hey, Forester!"

Pansy's shrill voice filled the classroom, which somehow bypassed Snape's hearing. I hated his selective hearing sometimes. With a sour glance in her direction, I decided heading over to her would mean I could at least retort without getting told off for yelling. Terry sent me a warning glance as I leant against her desk, as if I was about to do something stupid. He had such poor judge of my character sometimes.

"Is it true you and Mulciber are going out?" She said gleefully, not bothering to lower her voice, and I felt a little creeped out at how like Malfoy she sounded. If there was ever a match made in heaven...

"No, it's not." I said calmly, trying to remember that breathing thing that supposedly helped to calm down. It was hard with her shrill voice in my ear.

"He said you were."

"No, he didn't." I spoke shortly, wondering if it would be better to simply walk away.

"Well, I doubt he would go out with you anyway-"

"Why's that, Pansy? Reckon he's freaked out that the girls outside of Slytherin are just so pretty?" It was definitely time to walk away now. But I had barely put one foot forwards before she spoke again.

"Why would he want to go out with a loser mudblood who can barely spell her own name?"

Ouch.

I caught Terry's eye and he shook his head, either begging me to not slap her, or to ensure me that the things she had just said were so untrue.

I looked back to Pansy, and took in the smug look on her pug-like face. Surely, a fist in her face would wipe it off. But I forced thoughts of Snape yelling at me, and failing potions into my mind, trying to tell myself that I really did care about that kind of thing. And, with what was probably the most self-restraint that I had ever mustered in the world, I gave Pansy a sneer worthy of Malfoy. And walked away.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself until Pansy decided it would be a great idea to have the last word again.

"I knew it! You're parents are thick muggles. That explains why you're so stupid."

"Shut up," Terry snapped, leaping to my defence, "The only thick person here is you."

In the many years to come, I would probably look back on this moment and wish that I hadn't done it. But, right now, it seemed like a perfectly good plan.

Acting as if I hadn't heard, I gave a short circuit around the classroom, until I was standing a few metres behind Pansy and Terry; both of whom were focusing on their potions once again.

Pulling out my wand, I studied the back of Pansy's hair, looking as it gleamed slightly in the light coming from her cauldron's fire. There was a brief moment of me thinking this was probably a little below the belt, but then her earlier insults rang through my mind again, and I let those dark thoughts win me over, ignoring the kind of creepy smile spreading over my face.

"Diffindo."

When I was little I used to cut the hair of my dolls. Somewhat unaware I lacked good haircutting skills; they ended up with ragged, uneven haircuts; of which I had been rather proud.

In a completely twisted way, I was a little proud of the hair that was cut from Pansy's head; showering to the floor. I'd left her with a very shaggy, and very badly cut bob; uneven strands sticking out randomly. I know, it was the evillest thing I had ever done, and it was a little, if not _way_, too far. But I felt _so_ much better now.

Pansy, once seeing what had happened and working out exactly who was responsible, started to scream. And I mean scream. I had always put her down to a rather shrill and loud person, but the extent of lung capacity being used here was beyond what I had accredited her for.

Everyone in the class went silent for a few seconds, then exploded with either laughter, gasping or a lot of chattering.

Somewhere along the line (probably from the rather pleased look on my face and the fact that my wand was still aimed slightly at her head) everyone seemed to work out who had given Pansy a rather awful haircut. Including Snape.

"Silence," He barely had to whisper the word, and everyone shut up. His dark eyes flicked to me, and I knew that I was completely toast.

"Miss Forester," His voice sounded seriously dangerous, and despite myself, I shivered slightly.

"I know, I know," I sighed, "Shall I wait outside?"

A few whispers ran around the classroom, and I realised I had just been disrespectful again. Sometimes, it really _was_ an accident.

"I wouldn't even bother waiting." Snape said, spacing out the words so that they sounded pretty menacing.

I gave a curt nod, understanding his meaning. I marched towards my desk, trying to ignore the faces turned in my direction,

"Meg-" Terry began, but I cut him a 'don't worry about it' look, trying to pull a nonchalant expression onto my face. I gathered all my stuff into a bundle, ignoring my once again disastrous potion and the odd look on Malfoy's face.

It was only when the dungeon door swung shut behind me that I heard the class start speaking again. I'd probably just set myself up to go down in history as a complete psycho.

I leant against the door; hitting the back of my head in an almost reprimanding fashion. I had completely lost it back there; and I was a little scared of how much of an overreaction it had been.

I tried to justify it; summoning all the times Pansy had teased me into my mind. Yeah, she had definitely deserved it, I told myself stubbornly. At least now she would probably leave me alone.

With the thought that if Snape opened the door I would probably fall through it, I slouched off towards the Ravenclaw common room, unhitching my bag from my shoulder to let it trail behind me across the floor. I didn't know if Snape had just banned me from this lesson, or every other lesson until the end of time. And I didn't know if I cared. Terry was probably having heart attacks on my behalf.

One thing was for sure, there had been a look on Malfoy's face that had certainly been uncharacteristic. I had grown used to the absence of sneers every so often, and even that strange, contemplative look that had appeared in today's lesson. But there had been something else; something new.

And if I hadn't been me, and he hadn't been him, I would almost have said it was empathy.


	12. Chapter 12

**In which I hit Malfoy in the face and work a lot of things out. By accident.**

"You rebel, psycho crazy person."

I looked up from my Cheery-Owls on Wednesday morning to see Fred Weasley; his red hair accentuated by the dark grey clouds rolling far over his head over the Great Hall. Despite his words, his face told me that being a deranged psychopath was apparently the coolest thing ever. The lack of amusement on Terry's face as he heard these words stated he thought otherwise.

"Um...thank you." I said politely, wondering how a mad, dangerous person was supposed to behave in this kind of situation. Evidently, I satisfied Fred, for he moved over to join his brother at the Gryffindor table after a final approving grin.

"Say it," I grinned at Terry, who had his lips pursed in a thin line; probably barring back the wave of disapproving words he wanted to speak, "Say how irresponsible and good-for-nothing I am."

"I don't think that," He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I just thought that what you did was very rash. And pretty reckless."

"I lost my temper-"

"I'll say."

"I lost my temper and thought it was the thing that would make me infamous. I was aiming to make Snape terrified of me. I think it worked, don't you?"

Terry rolled his eyes at my complete lack of seriousness, and returned to his breakfast. Antony had just joined us; still groggy eyed and messy-haired when the post arrived.

"Don't poo in my cereal," I moaned, leaning over the bowl to ward it from the hundreds of owls flying over my head. I was surprised when Sampson crashed down in front of me; his little beak fastened over a letter that had thoughtfully been folded to a good size for him to carry. I'd sent him off home with a letter a few days ago, but hadn't expected a reply.

"Howdy Sampson," I smiled, letting him clamber into my bag as he emitted a few doleful hoots.

"How can something so small make so much noise?" Antony asked of no one in particular as I unfolded the letter, recognising my mum's handwriting.

Scooping up my milk glass, I was taking a careless sip of milk as I scanned the letter, and nearly choked on it at what I read.

"No!" I said in a voice that came out a little louder than I had intended, setting the glass down with a bang. A few people glanced up anxiously, probably inquisitive to see if I was about to start hacking their hair off; but at this point I didn't care. I just kept reading the words in front of me. And re-reading to make sure I wasn't being stupid.

"What is it?" Terry asked, sounding a little worried,

"My mum's cancelling Christmas!"

"Can she do that?" Antony asked, his mouth twisting slightly at his joke. I told him how much I thought of it by lobbing a handful of dry cereal at him.

"I mean she's cancelling me and Jade coming over to stay, moron." I tried again, feeling my spirits sink. I had been seriously looking forward to getting on the train, and heading over to the little seaside town where I had grown up. It was going to have been a family Christmas; me, Jade and mum. And that infernal pygmy puff, Sampson and our overweight cat.

I clambered out of my seat; grabbing my things as I went and hurried along to where Jade was sitting with her friends; laughing at a joke a pretty blond girl had just made.

"Have you read this?" I cried, interrupting as I held it a few centimetres from her face,

"Obviously not." She said coolly, and I felt a snigger build in my throat as I realised that was the kind of reaction I would have given.

"We're not going to mum's for Christmas!" I tried again, trying to make her feel as gutted as I was. As she took a casual sip of tea, I had the feeling she didn't share my despair,

"I knew that."

"Right," I said bitterly, scrunching up the letter, "If there's not any other world-changing secrets I should know about, I'll be going."

"See ya."

"Siblings," I muttered as I walked away, accidentally hitting people with my bag; which gave a few woeful hoots as Sampson was woken up. I really needed to invest money in a backpack. I was either treating this one like a dog and trailing it behind me or knocking people out with it.

The usual movement to lessons began not long after I had rejoined Terry and Antony. This morning, that movement meant it was time for me and Terry to go to Divination.

"I am _so_ not jealous," Antony scoffed as I told him this, hopping off his seat and stretching his arms luxuriously, "I have a free period."

"Shut up." Terry and I said in unison.

I noticed that when we queued at the back of the crowd of people milling through the doors opening out into the Entrance Hall that I was getting a lot of funny looks; the kind of looks Harry Potter used to get in our second year when everyone thought he was the heir of a deranged snake enthusiast.

"Do they think I'm going to eat them, or something?" I muttered to Terry, who gave a snort.

"You asked for it." He muttered, and I caught a wave of that same disapproval again,

"Well, I better make the most of it then," I informed him with a smirk, and set off through the crowd, swinging my bag a lot and putting on the world's deadliest glare. It turns out having a bad reputation and a bag emitting owl noises works wonders when you want to get through a crowd fast.

"Are you free Friday evening?"

I jumped, ceasing my death glare and tried as nonchalantly as I could muster to look over my shoulder in the hopes the speaker hadn't noticed. Mulciber gave me a slightly amused raised eyebrow to show that he had.

"Why?" I asked, and realised that sounded a little hostile. Mulciber didn't appear to notice,

"I wondered if you wanted to meet up."

"We're meeting up an awful lot recently," I noted, wondering if I had meant that simply as a comment, or a question of his motives. Mulciber shrugged,

"I thought we were friends. Have you read the book yet?"

"Wow, give me time!" I grinned, holding up my hands in surrender, "I've only read the first few pages." The good thing was, it was actually true. And so far, it was a very readable book; about medieval warlocks and witches. A little lame, but fun.

"Well, let me know what you think of it."

He moved off into the crowd; a tall, slight figure that blended easily in with everyone else.

"Come on," Terry said, breaking me off from looking after Mulciber; my eyebrows lowered in uncertainty, "No time for flirting. We have lessons!"

Following him only so I could reprimand him for that remark, we headed in the direction of North Tower; where up a winding spiral staircase lay the stuffy classroom I was to be encased in for the next hour or so.

We came to a halt at the foot of the Divination trapdoor, along with all the other mustering students taking the lesson. To be honest, I felt bored already.

However, the growing accumulation of Slytherin students leant me a fair bit of amusement when I saw Pansy, who had scraped her new hair into a tight bun; adding a few flowered clips in an attempt to disguise her ragged haircut. I gave her the sweetest smile when she caught my eye. Malfoy, who was standing next to her; arms folded, shot me mildly interested look, as if he were intrigued as to what was about to happen.

"You freak," She exclaimed in a squeal that was probably supposed to sound menacing. The people around quietened slightly; most likely hoping for another fight or display of my craziness, "St. Mungo's is _so_ going to have a new addition to its mental ward soon."

"But until then," I retorted, my hands flying to my hips, "You better watch your tongue, huh?" I paused a second before continuing, a glint in my eyes, "Unless you want that cut off too."

I ruined the scary effect I had been going for by sniggering. It was a little embarrassing that nobody else did.

"Oh, Meg," Terry muttered despairingly. I shot him a dry look.

For once in my life I was pretty glad when the trap door opened, and that infernal ladder I had fallen down more times than I could count descended.

It seemed that we were working with crystal balls today, as numerous amounts of the pale, swirling glasses appeared when I could finally see through all the thick, heavy incense induced smoke.

With a fake interested look at Terry; which he returned, we found a table and dumped our stuff down, trying not to laugh. I was pretty annoyed when Pansy, Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins set their things down a step below us. It was hard to tell which was brighter; a crystal ball or Malfoy's hair.

"Today, my dears," Professor Trelawney said in her faint, irritating voice the minute we had all sat down. Or at least, most of us. Neville seemed to realise he was the only one still standing and flumped down into the nearest chair, looking embarrassed, "We will be learning the secrets of the crystal ball-"

I was stuck between muttering 'again' or 'you don't say,' and a quick glance at Terry showed me he was ready for either comment from me. I descended into trying not to laugh again.

I therefore missed most of what she was saying, but dived enthusiastically into reading futures with the relief that at least here, I couldn't blow anything up or get yelled at.

"Go on then," Terry said with a wry smile, leaning back in his chair. To say that he didn't take this subject seriously was a momentous understatement, "Predict my life."

"I see, my dear," I said in my best Disney-old-witch voice, waving my arms for effect, "That you will...grow to have a really fat nose."

"That's you looking at my distorted reflection, you moron." Terry snorted, and we fell into silent laughter.

We were still trying to get a hold of ourselves when Professor Trelawney headed our way; her large eyes evidently not searching for a student that was stuck, but for one who could provide a good prediction for doom and despair. She settled for Neville, who was only a few tables away from us; his round face anxious, as he peered into the crystal ball for Dean Thomas.

"Like someone needs to tell him again what a loser he is." I heard Pansy hiss loudly in what was evidently supposed to be a failed whisper.

"Hey," I snapped, sending her a filthy glare,

"Shut up, mudblood," Malfoy sneered, turning in his seat to send me a mocking look. I was pretty surprised I had unearthed such a reaction from him. Maybe he and Pansy were secretly married or something.

I made to reach down the metre or so that separated us, perhaps to shove him off his chair, but unfortunately; fate had other plans, which I would have thought my crystal ball could have at least hinted at. My arm caught the crystal ball at high speed, and it was knocked clean off the scarlet clothed table. Almost in slow motion, I watched it shoot from its stand, and connect straight into Malfoy's laughing face.

I didn't quite know whether to die of laughter, or apologise.

In the end, I gaped like a fish as Malfoy put his head in his hands, groaning in pain as Pansy began shrieking. The whole class turned to look at us, Professor Trelawney looking painfully sad, as if she had seen the whole thing happen beforehand.

"Professor! Do something!" Pansy screamed, waving her hands around. Zabini, who was sitting next to her, slowly leant away out of range, a distasteful look on his face.

"Professor!" Malfoy moaned, still covering his face, "She's mauled me, professor!"

"An unfortunate happening, my dears," Was Professor Trelawey's input. Any other teacher would have checked for concussion at the very least, but obviously not her.

"I'll take him to the hospital wing!" Pansy exclaimed, perhaps a little eagerly, leaping from her seat. That gave me an idea, and I sprung up too,

"No need," I grinned, "I'll do it. After all, the fates told me I was to tidy up my own mess."

"Then you must not obstruct what is to pass, my dear," Professor Trelawney agreed in her best mysterious voice, "Miss Parkinson, please sit down my dear."

Left with no option but to obey, Pansy sent me a filthy glare as she slowly sank back down onto her tuffet.

"Come on Malfoy," I said cheerily, hauling him to his feet. He didn't bother saying anything; just moaning with his head in his hands, "Let's go and check for brain damage."

I gave Terry a wink as I passed him. He was looking exasperated, as if he had clued in as to why I was leaving, and was simply very envious.

The classroom began to bubble with talk once more as I led Malfoy out of the room; along the wooden corridor draped with red tapestries. I came to a halt when we hit the trapdoor.

"Didn't take brain damage into mind when they built this, huh?" I grinned at him, perhaps with a trace of deviance in it. He took his hands away from his face to see what I was looking at, and muttered something inaudible.

He seemed to recover rather well as I practically shoved him from the tower, and by the time we were walking past a rather loud painting containing a knight and his fat horse, he only had one hand clasped to his face.

"You know," I said, trying to put on an apologetic face. I think it turned into more of a smirk, "It _was_ an accident."

"That's what you said after that time with the Flying Seahorses." He snapped. Now I was working really hard to stop the laughing.

"Well, _that_ was an accident too-"

"Shut up, Forester." He muttered, not sparing me a glance as he slowed his pace.

"Engage your masculinity and embrace the pain, braggot!" The knight shouted at him. I snorted, and shoved Malfoy forwards before he could turn to ridicule paintwork.

"I'm sorry," I grinned, "What more do you want?"

"I want you to get lost," He sneered. How he managed to contort his face after his head had nearly been whacked off, I'll never know.

"There's no chance of that," I grinned, "The longer I take delivering you to Madame Pomfrey, the less time I have to spend in Divination. What do you say to the scenic route?"

Malfoy groaned. Whether out of pain, or the prospect of my sparkling company for an unknown length of time, I couldn't say.

We were walking along the seventh floor, towards the staircases, drab tapestries of trolls in tutus covering the walls. I snorted at them. It was just Dumbledore's style.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malfoy looking at a wall next to one of the hideous tapestries; an almost consternating look in his gaze.

"Want to be a ballet dancer now, Malfoy?" I said with a smirk, not letting it slide, "It's a step down from a Death Eater, that's for sure."

"Shut up," He snapped. Needless to say, I didn't.

"You know," I continued casually, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my robes as nonchalantly as I could manage when my brain was suddenly whirring with curiosity, "That letter of yours seemed to imply you were getting pretty chummy with You-Know-Who. What's that about, Draco, a fan of the crazies now, are we?"

"You don't understand a thing you saw, so you'd be wise to shut your mouth," He whispered it, his voice wavering; as if this were not a thing he wanted to be saying. But there was something underneath it too, a pride; or an edge of excitement. Almost adrenaline from the prospect of whatever he was up to. It made curiosity burn through me hotter than fire, "Or I'll shut it for you," He finally added, his tone hoarse; strained.

I snorted at this,

"How terrifying," I commented, "Can I expect a visit from the Death Eaters in the dead of night now?"

"It's not something to joke about, Forester."

"You know, I never got why we always have to address each other with surnames." I said casually, not speeding up my ambling pace, "It's really quite lame."

"So why do you do it?" He muttered, evidently wishing I would go away.

"I'm not sure," I grinned, ignoring the fact it had been a rhetorical question, "The Slytherin influence?"

He didn't look like replying anytime soon, so I continued to talk, leading him away from the seventh floor corridor, and towards a bridge leading away from the main staircases,

"You know," I smiled, "Mulciber, for instance,"

"Mulciber?" Malfoy snorted, "And how is _that_ going?"

"Do I detect a ray of jealousy, Malfoy?" I sniggered happily, and he sighed in frustration, "How's your secret engagement to Pansy going?"

"What?" He asked, sounding extremely taken aback. He was obviously yet to see the funny side of something.

"Never mind." I muttered, "But you didn't answer my question."

"You say it like I'm going to, Forester."

"Well, I know you're up to something; you're too dim to hide it. And like I said, I read that letter."

"When exactly, in between all the denials, did you admit to reading my post?"

"It's a grey area," I commented, waving a hand airily, "The point is, I want to know what you're up to, before there are consequences."

"There have already been consequences," He said angrily.

"Oh my god." I whispered, suddenly abandoning the joking as a realisation hit me, and rounding on him, "You mean the ghosts, don't you?"

It was a total shot in the dark, but for some weird reason it made sense. Except it didn't. I had no evidence and no theory. Just the weird knowledge that two things were wrong with Hogwarts this year; Malfoy and the ghosts. They _had_ to be linked, surely? If not, I would at least have the satisfaction of confusing Malfoy more.

I knew I was right the minute Malfoy stopped walking. He looked at me as if he was truly seeing me; his eyes wide and, strangely, a little scared.

"I- what?"

"You're kidding?" I spluttered, and there was the awkward moment as both of us stared into each other's eyes, utterly bewildered.

"I need to go." He muttered, and began to turn away. I wasn't entirely aware of my hand snaking out to grab his arm until Malfoy turned back to me, eyebrows raised in question,

"Tell me," I said in my most commanding, no-nonsense voice. Wow, I hated sounding so serious,

"Why would I tell you, Forester?" I caught the sneer flitting back into his voice, and refused to let myself scowl. Here was actually a time to be mature. Well, kind of.

"I thought we were buddies, Malfoy," I said casually, smiling, "We've bonded this year, right? I'm a great secret keeper." The last part wasn't so true, but at that moment, I found myself being sincere. I wanted to know what he was up to; at least, the nosy part did. And this seemed like the best, if only, opportunity I had to find out. How many other times would I catch him alone like this?

But it was obviously not to be. Malfoy shook his arm free of my grip, and sent me a sneer that I had recently been considering I wanted back. Be careful what you wish for, and all that.

"I said I need to go," He said brusquely, "Or in other words, _get lost_, Forester."

I was ready with a quip, but I saw the look in his eyes underneath the swagger. It was a genuine, _back off_ look, and for some reason, I found myself abiding by it.

"Fine."

I was rather impressed that it was me who turned away first, marching in the direction of the Divination classroom once again. Although, being me, I'd led Malfoy down quite a few random corridors without paying attention, so it was no doubt going to take me the best part of the lesson to find my way back again.

Either way, I wasn't there to see Malfoy looking after me, a frown of deep thought on his pale features.


	13. Chapter 13

****Double whammy with 2 chapters! Yay. And I know it's the completely wrong time of year to have this first chapter, but what can ya do? I always felt like Christmas was a massive part of Hogwarts, especially in the films, so I'm shoving it in to make you all feel Christmassy at the totally wrong time! Hurray! Thanks for all the great comments again, you are all very lovely :P****

**Wherein snowballs become my weapon of choice, and Christmas turns a touch frosty.**

I was no less annoyed by the fact that my plans for Christmas had been brought to an abrupt, screeching halt when I woke up on the first day of the holidays. All the other students had been packing the night before; ready to catch the train this morning back to King's Cross. I satisfied myself by moping and occupying the best seat by the fire; playing the 'abandoned for Christmas' card when anyone tried to move me.

By the time I arrived downstairs to salvage some breakfast; the Entrance Hall was teeming with the gathering students; waiting to exit the castle. It was fairly hectic; with owls screeching and hooting, and thousands of voices laughing and shouting as people jostled each other in an attempt to reach the doors to the grounds quicker.

"Staying at Hogwarts, Forester?" Pansy screeched as she passed, clinging to Malfoy's arm with one hand; a large shoulder bag in the other, which she was using to bat first years aside, "Can't blame your parents for not wanting _you_ home!"

"I just don't want the train to have a nasty accident that might prevent you going home to _your_ parents," I retorted, "I thought I heard a rumour."

I turned to Malfoy, a fake grin plastered to my face. With him, there was always a selection of ways to annoy him, but with Pansy currently here, and my engagement joke still in my memory, I decided to try a new tactic. Besides, there were only so many jokes I could make about the bruise around his right eye, and I rather felt they had run their course over these last few days.

"Bye Malfoy," I said, fluttering my eyelashes, "I'll miss you."

Sometimes I do something and _really_ wish I had not done it.

But this was definitely not one of those moments. Pansy's mouth dropped open, as if her jaw had broken, and she forgot to keep walking. The result was a small pile up as students, eager to leave for the holidays crashed into her. But my eyes were on Malfoy, who had flushed a dull pink. He had _blushed_? Meeting Pansy's murderous gaze, I decided then was the moment to get moving. Unable to control my sniggering, I darted into the crowd.

"Miss Forester." Professor McGonagall's piercing tones cut across my victory, and I turned to face her; expression now that of total innocence,

"Would I be correct in thinking you are staying at the castle for Christmas?"

"Yes, professor." I said, my mood slipping a little.

"Then I needn't remind you, that even though this is considered a school holiday, your conduct will have to remain..." She paused, and seemed to realise that 'remain' didn't come into it at all, "You will have to be on best behaviour."

"Don't worry, professor," I said brightly, "The people who make me misbehave have just left."

Terry saved me from any further reproach by catching my arm; Antony trailing behind him, having trouble with navigating the crowds with his case,

"You'll have a great time here," Terry told me firmly, "Michael Corner is staying here too-"

"-Hurray-"

"And I've got you a present," Terry continued, ignoring my comment and pausing to rummage through his bag with gloved hands ready for the outdoors, and eventually pulled out a neatly wrapped, roughly book-sized parcel with carefully knotted string. I smiled at how, even in trivial matters such as present giving, he would settle for no less than exceptional.

"But you're not allowed to open it until Christmas Day," He added, his eyes wary as if I was about to rip it open right here and now. I mean, really, I did have _some_ restraint.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, giving him a pretty enthusiastic goodbye hug.

"I would have got you a present, Meg," Antony told me as I released Terry, "But it's like you said. _Real_ boys leave their shopping until Christmas Eve."

Terry threw a playful punch into Antony's arm, and the two left to catch the train chuckling. I tried exceptionally hard not to feel bitter.

In the end I headed for the Great Hall; which was feeling more like Santa's Grotto at this time of year. The usual twelve Christmas trees glittered and shone with opulent golden baubles and silver tinsel; and enchanted snow streamed from the ceiling; melting before it came into contact with the tables; on which sat bowls of fat, brightly orange satsumas. A few of the newly surfaced ghosts drifted past me, singing a Christmas hymn in low, soft voices. Their re-emergence hadn't really caused the effect I had thought it would. In fact, I felt most people seemed a little disappointed that now they were under threat again of having their wits scared out of them when ghosts took to appearing suddenly out of the walls.

A few students were dotted along the tables; the majority looking pretty gloomy about not going home for the holidays. With a slightly sinking heart, I saw that a few of Jade's friends were staying too, which would probably mean my sister wouldn't want me hanging around that much.

"Meg!"

I turned to see Michael was calling me from over by the Gryffindor table, freeing himself from a conversation with Seamus Finnigan, who didn't look best pleased about talking to Michael in the first place. Terry had once explained to me that Quidditch caused a lot of people to dislike each other. I didn't even bother to grasp the reason.

"Antony said you would be staying!" Michael continued as I walked over to join them,

"Yep," I replied unhelpfully, "Lucky me."

"I asked to stay," Seamus said with his usual grin, "My cousin Fergus is coming over this Christmas. I don't think I could stand another moment with him now he can apparate!"

Before any of us could contribute anything else to the conversation, a new voice began talking. One that made each of us cast quick glances at each other to make sure we were all equally annoyed by this particular person.

"You lot all staying for the holidays?" Cormac Mclaggen said with his usual, self-important tones, "Should be fun."

"Define 'fun_'_." I muttered under my breath, too cowardly to let him hear.

"Why aren't you going home?" Seamus asked, arms folded, and sounding slightly aggressive. I figured it was another Quidditch thing. Or he just found Mclaggen as irritating as I did.

"My father has important work in Romania, working with Tiberius Mclaggen," He turned to me as if thinking I was the most likely to be impressed, "Do you know who that is?"

"No." I was fairly certain that I said 'no' in the tone that plainly said I didn't want to find out either, but Mclaggen seemed to have missed it,

"He's my uncle. He's pretty close friends with Bertie Higgs, head of the Auror office. I went Nogtail hunting with them a few years back."

"Well, you _are_ well connected."

Mclaggen looked at me a moment, evidently wondering if I was being mocking. I came to the abrupt conclusion that this was going to be a very, very long holiday.

I was not wrong.

Over the next few days, in between avoiding Mclaggen and writing humorous (in my opinion anyway) letters to Terry and Antony, I actually found myself doing work to pass the time. I scared myself slightly when I caught sight of my reflection in a window; laden with books as I trudged back from the library. To even out the balance a little, I also did a lot of late night walking around the castle; and once, when I stumbled upon a piece of chalk meant for the blackboard, added to the array of moustaches that would sometimes be drawn upon suits of armour or paintings. A fairly satisfactory creative outlook, let me assure you.

But one good thing came out of the holiday, and that was bonding with Seamus and Michael over our shared hatred of Mclaggen. The oaf seemed to think we were his best friends ever, and seemingly hanging onto his every word. And for that reason he kept eating dinner with us, treating us to the biography of Cormac Mclaggen. Something I could really have done without, thank you very much.

It was when Michael, Seamus and I were clustered up one end of the table a few days before Christmas eating steak pie and mashed potato that Mclaggen joined us once again,

"I have an idea," Michael said before Mclaggen could open his mouth, "How about we go have a snowball fight after dinner? We can destroy all the snowmen the other students built!"

"Now that sounds like a plan," I agreed, ceasing the slapping noise I was making as I hit the potato with my fork.

Seamus seemed to be of the same opinion, a glint in his eye telling me that he probably wanted to hit a certain someone quite hard. Mclaggen started talking about the great snowball fight he and Rufus Scrimgeour had once had, which we took as confirmation for him wanting to come as well.

The grounds were still icy cold; fresh snow falling even as we separated into teams. We had accumulated the majority of the students who were staying here; and everyone looked keen to vent some feeling with some hardcore snowball fighting.

"Please let us be on the opposing team to Mclaggen," I moaned into Seamus' ear as we walked in the direction of the lake, "I have never wanted to hit anyone so much."

Seamus let out a snigger that sounded like we had hit a mutual agreement.

The falling snow had caused a blanket of grey-white that obliterated the most of the castle's surroundings. Even the sky was a faded white as heavy, thick flakes drifted down to earth; creating a muting of all sound in the way that falling snow always did.

"Alright," Michael said when everyone was assembled, rubbing his hands together to warm them up, "We'll just separate into teams, I guess,"

"I'm with Forester," Mclaggen said, "Her aim during that Quidditch game wasn't too bad, although there were quite a few wide shots-"

"Wonderful." I grumbled as he came over to stand next to me; his tall frame towering over me in a very unwelcome way.

I had to settle for turning on Michael and Seamus as they eagerly joined the opposing team in the hope of getting some Quidditch vengeance, which turned out to be rather amusing; as we all took it as an opportunity to invent some great, if a little silly, insults in between pelting one another with snow, insults that I mentally stored away for when Malfoy came back to school.

The only problem was Mclaggen treating this game like it was a very serious war, ordering a few scared looking first years where to aim and how to make a good snowball.

"You're holding it wrong," He told me, as if there was a correct way to lob a snowball at someone's face.

I used this comment to simply abandon excuses of not being on the same team, and turned round and lobbed a snowball in his face.

"I'm on your team!" Mclaggen exclaimed angrily, having staggered backwards and nearly fallen over,

"Oh, I'm very sorry," I apologised in the least heart-felt voice ever, "I guess I _was_ holding it wrong."

I think Mclaggen eventually worked out I was not entirely truthful, for as we trudged back towards the castle; sodden and shivering, he didn't join Seamus, Michael and I.

"Lucky Terry wasn't here," I commented, laughing as I wiped a mashed collection of snow from my jacket, "The last time I hit him with one of these, he got pretty upset."

"Well, he always did say you were pretty immature." Michael chuckled, bending to scoop up another handful of snow to get a last hit in. But that comment distracted me slightly.

"What?" I said sharply, turning on him.

"Oh," Michael said, his eyes wide as he realised he had said something he definitely shouldn't have, "I mean, he didn't mean it like that... he was just...joking?"

It was lame, and the scowl I gave him seemed to help him realise that. Seamus wisely turned the conversation into a hearty retelling of how he had aimed a snowball in Mclaggen's eye (the poor guy had really taken quite a beating from us) but now I wasn't particularly in the mood to laugh at how Mclaggen probably was going to have a black eye.

Seamus beckoned Michael in the direction of the Great Hall in an attempt to scrounge some food when we arrived in the Entrance Hall; which would probably result in giving Filch a heart attack with the amount of melted snow we brought with us. Unable to spend any more time in soaking wet clothing, I left them to it to head back to the common room.

I chewed my lip as I dragged my feet up the stairs towards the common room, not looking forward to see that stupid eagle now that I was without my riddle book. Of course, it could have been that Terry had meant it light heartedly, but it wasn't really his style to talk casually about people whilst they weren't there. But it wasn't like him to be mean either. I was probably overreacting (which I seemed to be doing a great deal of these days) but the thought that my best friend was gossiping made me lose whatever Christmas spirit I had accumulated over today.

"Hey, Forester," The familiar, bored voice; dragging over the words, made me jump. I turned to see a familiar slight teenager; his dark hair bedraggled and dark shadows under his eyes. He apparently hadn't been sleeping well.

"Mulciber," I said, now overly conscious I was dripping wet and probably looking hideous, "I didn't realise you were staying for Christmas." In fact, I hadn't been thinking about him at all.

"I was hoping I'd run into you," He'd obviously heard I was staying. A small twinge of guilt hit my heart, "It's so dull here."

"I've never seen you at meal times," I said stupidly, trying to steer the conversation away from anything but snowball fighting. A trickle of melting ice began running down the back of my neck.

"No," Mulciber said with a shrug, "I've been caught up with homework and keep forgetting the time."

"And you haven't starved to death?"

He let out a small laugh, his eyes lighting up slightly as I continued to cause melting snow to stack into a soggy puddle around me.

"No," He continued firmly, his face deadpan again, "I just go the kitchens."

I was about to comment on the brilliantness of this idea, but I was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek as Peeves the poltergeist appeared to materialise out of thin air a few metres above us.

"Ahhhhhhh!" He screeched in his usual dulcet tones, shoving a green finger in my direction, "'Ickle Ravenclaw is causing a mess! Should tell Filch I should."

"You could," Mulciber said coolly before I could get a word in, "But then I would just tell the Bloody Baron how unfairly you treated my friend."

If a slightly green, transparent poltergeist could go any paler, Peeves managed it. I simply stared at Mucliber, awed.

"Begging your pardon, crafty, sneaky Slytherin," He said in a greasy voice; performing a bow that didn't actually seem that mocking, "It won't happen again."

"That's good to know," Mucliber said in a falsely cheerful voice, "Bye."

"That," I said in deferential tones as Peeves zoomed away, not seeming quite as smug as usual, "Was very cool."

Mulciber gave a modest little shrug, as if he were trying not to look too pleased with himself.

"Do you want to hang out?" He asked casually, shoving his hands in his pockets. I noticed he was still wearing his robes despite the lack of lessons.

"Urm... I really need a change of clothes." I said, casting a look down at my sopping jacket. I was pretty sure my shoes had reached the squelching-when-walking stage now. Mulciber gave me an odd look at my words, and his next few words completely threw me.

"Meg, you've kind of been avoiding me for a while now." He spoke lightly, but I caught the small undertone of mild irritation. Still aggravated from the news about Terry, and what I considered to be the unfairness of this comment, my anger shot up too.

"Hey, I'm not the one hiding in the library!" I retorted, and immediately regretted it as Mulciber's brow lowered. True, I hadn't met with him on Friday like he had wanted before the end of term, but that was hardly 'avoiding'.

"Well, maybe I'll stay there more often." Mulciber snapped,

"Maybe you should." I retorted, turning on my heel and walking away. All happy, Christmas-related feelings were absorbed in that moment, and I stormed past the suits of armours stuffed with fairy lights, scowling at them, knowing that this year, Christmas was definitely cancelled.


	14. Chapter 14

**Wherein I go for a walkabout, fall over a celebrity and overreact **_**again**_**.**

"_Kick the trolls from under the mistletoe, and replace them with your girl, Now's the time for joy and magic; so take out your wand; give it a twirl."_

"It's not Christmas anymore, Meg." Antony informed me as I finished off my rather tuneless rendition of a new Weird Sister's song in the Clock Tower Courtyard at lunchtime. Although nowhere near the Baltic conditions of the Christmas holidays, it was still very cold out here; and we all huddled together like penguins; breath steaming the air.

"Give me a break," I told Antony, rubbing my nose to spur some life back into it, "The WWN were playing it all morning."

The snow had begun melting shortly before everyone's return to school. The students all came clammering with stories of their holidays and gossip about their presents and what was going on at home, but their return didn't prompt the welcome relief I had hoped it would. Instead, there was an odd feeling of dull resentment as Terry and Antony greeted me, and I had the sneaking suspicion it was because of what Michael had said about Terry. I know it was stupid to dwell on it, but it was bugging me at how un-Terry the comment had seemed.

So, when I should have been laughing at the ski-goggle marks Antony had accumulated over the break, I decided to face the problem head on as Terry joined us,

"So I heard you've been gossiping about me." I said casually, not quite succeeding in the joking tone I had been going for. Antony, who was sitting on the wall, looked down at me with mild discomfort.

"What's that?" Terry asked, confused as he adjusted his bag that was strewn with books for the many subjects he was taking.

"Michael said you called me 'very immature.'" Or something like that anyway. Antony gave an awkward life, as if he could see that I didn't find this very funny at all.

"Oh, that," Terry said with a sigh, and that did little to ease my temper,

"What do you mean _that_?" I repeated heatedly "It was a little uncalled for to be talking about me behind by back, right?"

"I don't think he meant it like-" Antony began uncertainly,

"-But you are immature," Terry said unflinchingly, looking up from the ground to meet my eyes, "It's not always a bad thing, Meg. But it is true."

"Right," I snapped, hefting my bag onto my shoulder, "See you around."

Storming away didn't feel quite as good as it should have done. It just felt childish and over dramatic. _Immature_.

I unquestionably wasn't made to feel better by Mulciber stalking by me as I entered the Entrance Hall; not bothering to make eye contact; but his furious expression telling me he had seen me, and was definitely still not happy with me. I ran a hand through my hair, heaving a sigh and letting my fury distract me from dissipating into tears.

"Hey, Meg!"

Convinced this voice could offer me no consolation, I didn't look up as Padma fell into line next to me; Lavender next to her who was busy mumbling something like 'won won' to herself.

"No offence, Padma," I grated, "But this really _isn't _a good time."

"I was just wondering if you had put a word in for me with Antony yet," She bravely continued regardless.

"Nope," I said shortly, wishing I had never said anything about telling him she liked him. I mean, really, it was like we were twelve again, "I'm waiting for the perfect opportunity."

I was kind of going somewhere with that comment, but my possible lame joke was cut short by Pansy barging into me.

"So has everyone decided to annoy me today?" I fumed, and she offered me a leer in reply,

"How was Christmas all alone?" She jeered, shoving her hands on her hips in ultimate-mean-girl mode, "Made good friends with the ghosts?"

For once, I really didn't feel like a reply. So, for perhaps the first time ever (excluding the unfortunate hair incident, of course) I merely walked into the crowd, my spirits at an all time low.

I didn't sleep well that night.

I suppose it was a combination of having two disagreements on the go, mixed in with the fact I had just remembered I had an essay due in for Snape tomorrow which I had forgotten; one of the other girls was snoring, and I had eaten way too much sugary pudding at dinner. Also, my brain would not shut up. It was whirring uncontrollably; and I was surprised to find that in between scenes of either shouting at Terry or apologising to him, my mind was leaping through the scenarios of what Malfoy was doing and how I could find out what he was up to. Why my brain had singled this out to think of was beyond me. It was getting exceedingly silly that I was thinking about what he was up to so much, but it was pointless to attempt to stop it.

But I tried nonetheless.

I threw back the sheets irritably, kicking them down with my feet. The movement had woken me up all the more, so with a reluctant sigh; I decided taking a quick stroll might clear my head.

Of course, taking a 'quick stroll' was generally frowned upon at this time of night, and I didn't harbour any false expectations that I would get away with it if I was caught. Hell, knowing my luck, I'd probably run into Snape.

But that didn't stop me donning a dressing gown over my pyjamas and shoving on my thick socks that I had learnt where very good at muffling my footsteps.

There was the old, stifled feeling of exhilaration as I crept through the common room, jumping slightly at the sparks of the dying fire embers. I hadn't snuck out in ages when the rest of the school was sleeping. It was a shame really.

"And where do you think you're going?" The eagle squawked. I threw it an amused 'try and stop me' look, before heading down the stairs; liking the emptiness and seclusion that came from being in a normally crowded place that was now deserted. Moonlight was streaming in through the windows; the dark blue hue of night having swept the castle of its vivacity and colour. I found it serene, thought I was trying to ignore the slightly hesitant worry of running into Filch. That didn't stop me from casting lumos though; letting my wand shine wavering light over the faded, floral wallpaper in this particular corridor.

The corridors were dark; their paintings sleeping; with no sound but deep breathing and the occasional snort. My feet roved over the thickly threaded carpets and I let out a contended sigh. This was much better. There was nothing in my head now except the wonderful feeling of rebellion and tranquillity from being alone.

I was fairly annoyed when I turned to jog down a small flight of stairs and my foot caught in the tassels of a rug. Just avoiding falling and muttering a swearword that probably woke a few of the painting's occupants up, I turned round to free myself.

It ended with me freeing my foot, overbalancing and having to practically leap down the stairs to avoid falling over.

It also resulted with me crashing into a figure who was just passing by.

I fell onto the figure; both of us landing with a loud 'Oompf!' Through the blur of movement, I managed to catch the sight of a rounded pair of glasses, and the dark hair left me with little doubt as to who I had accidentally assaulted.

"I'm sorry!" I moaned, disentangling myself from Harry Potter, and straightening my dressing gown clumsily.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked, a little bewildered as he adjusted his glasses, shoving some rolled parchment into his hoodie.

"Just...taking a stroll." I hoped I sounded casual. I felt like an idiot,

"Me too." He said humourlessly, and I felt like there was something I was missing as he absent-mindedly touched the folded paper in his pocket.

"Well," I said, feeling that staying here much longer was going to cause excessive and needless awkwardness, "Have fun!"

I dodged around him before he could speak again, and set off once more down the corridor, shaking my head in embarrassment at my own lack of elegance. Suddenly staying in bed seemed to have been the better idea.

This line of thought was further enforced when I had crossed a few more corridors; and was passing by a large tapestry probably hiding an alcove that was not aesthetically pleasing.

I didn't need to think twice when I heard footsteps from somewhere out of sight.

"Nox," I muttered, plunging myself into darkness and cursing my misfortune at running into someone that had to be in the same corridor as I was in this massive castle. Turning to my left, I heard an odd rustling sound coming from behind a tapestry.

"Get out of sight," The tapestry said.

An arm reached out and grabbed me, yanking me behind it. I let out a muffled yelp of surprise, my heart accelerating as I tried not to panic.

"Shut up." A voice hissed, their hand over my face. Left with no choice, I licked it. My assailant let out a hoarse cry of indignation, and thankfully released me.

The footsteps were too close for comfort now, so I was subjected to sharing the small space with the person who had nearly choked me to death. Sort of. If it was light enough to let them see my glare, I'm sure they would have been terrified.

It seemed the brief noise we had made had gone unnoticed, as the footsteps past our hiding place, the owner evidently not suspicious in the least.

Once I couldn't make out any potentially troublesome noises, I turned back to the person in the shadows, ready to start arguing. Only I was a little taken aback at who I saw.

"You are kidding me." I informed Malfoy with an extremely petulant tone, "Why are you everywhere?"

"Why are _you_ everywhere?" Malfoy shot back, sounding pretty irritated. I think it was simply the effect I always had on him.

"Hey, I was taking a walk to get away from you, and here you-"

"Well, I was hardly in your stinking common room, was I?" Malfoy snapped, shoving me out from behind the tapestry.

I hadn't realised what I'd said until I'd said it. Ten out of ten for putting my foot in it.

"Well, what are you doing here?" I asked shrewdly, folding my arms as he followed me out back into the corridor, "This equates to pretty suspicious behaviour, you know."

"Well, according to you, everything I do is suspicious, Forester." Malfoy sighed, flicking me a contemptuous look,

"Well, prove me wrong. What are you doing hiding behind the tapestry in the middle of the night?"

"Hiding from teachers." He answered glibly.

"I mean before that."

He gave a shrug, which I took to mean I was not getting an answer. I heaved a massive sigh, wriggling my toes thoughtfully. Oh crap, I forgot I was wearing pyjamas. Malfoy seemed to realise this at exactly the same moment.

"Well, I'm going." He said brusquely, starting to move off along the corridor,

"Wait, what?" I spun round to catch up with him, and he heaved a very put upon sigh,

"Go _away_, Forester."

"Aw, you're just saying that." I grinned, determined not to let him get away that easily. I was definitely happiest when I had a distraction at the moment, "I have loads of things I need to get out my system!"

"Has anyone told you you're really annoying?"

"Story of my life, Malfoy," I said brightly, shoving my hands in my dressing gown pockets,

"Do I have to jinx you to make you shut up?"

"It's my friends," I said determinedly, "I had a silly row with two of them; and both times-"

"I don't care."

"-and both times it has been my fault," I ignored his comments, unwavering in my plan to purge my feelings, "I keep overreacting. And I'm way too proud to apologise, which is me digging my own grave, I guess."

"Is that why you were upset earlier?"

"I was upset?" I asked blankly, a little thrown by his sudden interest in my one-sided conversation,

"Well you rushed away from Pansy before you could try and be funny. I took that to mean you were upset. Or just being thick?"

"Oh, hilarity."

I almost liked the kind of comfortable silence that followed that particular exchange of witticisms. I sneaked a look at Malfoy, who was as grim-faced as ever. I was reminded in my decision of how this new, serious and carrying-the-weight-of-the-world Malfoy simply would not do.

"Look," I said, turning on him, "Can we please go back to how things were?"

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy asked, actually looking at me in confusion.

"You know, you insulting me, me insulting you, an awful lot of surnames and sneers being thrown around. I liked that, it was fun."

"Fun?" He sounded totally perplexed now,

"Yes." I replied patiently, turning to face him, "I like arguing with you."

He looked as if I had either slapped him or kissed him. He was obviously beyond understanding my need to return things to normality.

"We _were_ just insulting each other," He finally said.

"Yeah, but not sincerely, that was just playful teasing," I paused to look at him critically to confirm this, "Right?"

He didn't answer.

"Wait," I asked, pausing, suddenly losing my bearings, "What floor are we on?"

"Seventh." Malfoy said with a shrug. I gave a groan,

"Again? It takes so bloody long for me to find me way back-"

"I have a question, Forester," he said, completely ignoring my brief fury at the incomprehensible layout of Hogwarts, "Are your parents wizards?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, totally nonplussed.

"You heard me. Are your parents magic?"

"What...I-"

The truth was, I was, I wasn't exactly sure what to say. I mean, there was a definite answer; but that answer would turn Malfoy's opinion of me one way or another, and whilst I certainly didn't care what he thought, it was just, well... I did.

Or at least, I didn't want his opinion changing because of my family's blood.

"Not telling." I finally said, regaining enough swagger to throw my hands on my hips and pull a 'so there' face. Malfoy wasn't put off.

"You could have told Pansy that you aren't a mudblood if your parents were wizards," He mused, looking down at me thoughtfully. I didn't particularly like it,

"Hey! Don't use that word!"

"But it isn't the kind of thing you would have said. You would have just made some stupid joke."

"Glad we're on the same page." I muttered.

"So which is it?" Damn, he was persistent, "Are they muggles, or not? Or are you half and half like that Gryffindor idiot who blows everything up?"

"I told you," I said huffily, "I'm not telling you. You'll either want to be my friend for life or look down on me. Go write to your father if you want to know so badly; I bet he keeps records or lists."

"He's in Azkaban," Malfoy hissed, and I blanched slightly. Whoops. Put my foot in it again.

"Hang on, is that what you were trying to do with the mudblood comment earlier?" I asked after a moment, feeling very shrewd all of a sudden, "In Divination you suddenly came back from the dead. Or whatever this weird, 'I must go it alone' thing you have going on here is."

"I think it's time for you to get lost now."

"Is that all you can say?"

He flicked me a dark look that showed I really wasn't welcome anymore. Funny, it was almost like at first I had been.

"Well this has been lovely," I concluded, and although I was joking, my heart felt a little lighter, "Anytime you want to cry your heart out, let me know."

He didn't bother saying goodbye or 'get lost' which, as I walked in the direction I hoped was going to lead me back to the common room, I decided was an achievement.

I finally fell asleep that night with the thought that if I could have been bothered to keep a diary, I would certainly have the weirdest thing to write. Today I let the person who annoyed me the most play the role of my best friend. And I fell over Harry Potter. But that was weird on a slightly different level.


	15. Chapter 15

**Whilst casually re reading I discovered a lot of typos which will teach me a lesson about staying up late to finish chapters. Probably. Either way, sorry if I ended getting rid of typos that made you laugh at my silliness. I've probably still missed a tonne anyway.**

**Also, I'm going on holiday (wohaaaay) but that's going to put a halt on uploads for a while. But I'm sure you guys will live ;)**

**Wherein boys are surprisingly knowledgeable with gossip again, and I turn into a flirty uniform thief.**

Given that I had gone to sleep at about three in the morning last night, my eight thirty start with Defence Against the Dark Arts was not at all welcome.

Sitting next to Antony, who was absorbed in conversation with Padma (I still hadn't spilt the beans, more because Antony surely wasn't that stupid on working it out and I wanted to save the breath, but also because I'd been wrapped in self-pity at how I'd singlehandedly mucked up two friendships and therefore didn't have the time. Call it selfish, because it was) I avoided falling asleep on my desk by sitting ramrod straight; staring at the glass tank that contained some animal I had missed the name of, that was making squelching noises with tentacled arms. It was hard to concentrate when I was distracted by Padma's whispering, to which, surprisingly, Antony was responding too. I had never seen that before; you could have blown something up in the next seat and he wouldn't have commented for fear of missing some vital fact the teacher was saying.

"-And as you can see," Lupin was saying in his weary tones, looking as tired as I felt, "Tentacles on the Klaspout's arms provide expert advantage for keeping hold of prey whilst its mouth-"

The Klaspout interrupted with a horrible squelching noise from its jaws, finishing Lupin's sentence for him. A few girls exclaimed in disgust, and Neville moved his chair decidedly back from its proximity to the tank.

"It's 'Klaspout', not 'Kwakspot." Antony left his conversation with Padma in time to catch me attempting to take notes, whilst yawning my head off.

"How can you know it all when you weren't even listening?" I scowled, scribbling out the word I had just written.

"Lupin."

The recognition of a voice the majority of us hated caused most of us to swivel round in our chairs to glance towards the door to the classroom. Standing there was Snape, his hands clasped behind his back, and his dark eyes fixed coldly on our teacher.

"Ah, yes, may I have a word, Severus?" Lupin asked with small smile, as if it was he who had caused Snape to materialise at the door. I quite liked his style. Snape said nothing, which lent greatly to the rumours that these two teachers didn't quite see eye to eye.

We all watched, eager for something out the ordinary as Lupin walked over to Snape. Before shutting the door behind him, he looked over his shoulder, seeming amused at all the curious faces,

"Start on the book work," He instructed, "I want to start marking the questions when I get back."

"What an awful teacher," Pansy said loudly the minute he was out the door, "We learnt so much more when Umbridge was here,"

"Yeah," Ron said turning round in his seat, his expression hard, "We learnt that anyone dressed in pink is the incarnation of evil."

A few people laughed at this, and Pansy flushed angrily,

"And we also learnt that Potter was loony and mudbloods aren't welcome at the ministry." I was pleased to hear a slight drawl back in Malfoy's voice, but that didn't stop the fact that he'd just said something incredibly offensive.

"And we learnt that you're much more likeable with your mouth shut." I provided for Harry, who had turned round to say what was probably the same, unoriginal insult he'd been using for years, of 'shut up'. Malfoy flicked me a slightly surprised look, which quickly turned into a sneer,

"Careful, Forester, there's a Lethifold behind you."

Lupin chose that moment to re-enter the classroom, which was probably a good thing. I don't think anybody missed the potion he was carrying in his hands, and I smiled at all the possible theories that were going to abound later.

"How are we doing?" He asked the class, and from the awkward looks on a few faces, seemed to guess that not a hell of a lot of work had been done in his absence, "A few more minutes needed?"

"Take about an hour," Pansy whispered loudly, "It's not as if we learn anything here."

Everyone cringed slightly at that. After all, the majority of us liked Professor Lupin, and hearing Pansy being so rude about him got a lot of people worked up.

"Maybe if you listened," Dean Thomas said crossly, "You'd actually learn something,"

"Yeah," I contributed, "Instead of dreaming up half-witted insults."

"And what do you do with your time, Forester?" Malfoy sneered, turning round in his seat to catch my eye, "Dream up even stupider ones?"

I noted that he looked just as tired as me, if not more. That seemed to be the look he was trying to achieve nowadays. I mentally berated myself for not bringing up the topic of the ghosts when I saw him last night. Not only had I been too chicken, I also liked this normal balance we had gone back to. If given the chance, I wouldn't want to know about any of Malfoy's little secrets this year.

"You are going to make a woman _so_ happy one day." I muttered acerbically. Someone gave a low snort of laughter. Unfortunately, Malfoy ignored the insincerity in my comment and gave a smirk.

"Thank you, Meg," Lupin said, and I was fairly sure I could hear the smile in his voice, "But instead of arguments, I think our time would be better spent answering these questions."

"I think that the fights of Meg versus the whole of Slytherin are becoming more and more frequent," Antony sniggered later as we piled out the classroom; heading down the spiralling staircases towards the next lesson.

"I think it's due to the fact that they all seem to get more and more irritating." I said loudly as a few of them walked past. Zabini flicked me a dark look as he shoved past.

"I don't know why you talk to them," Padma said, and I felt like she was now the female substitute for Terry. Except he was currently in Arithmancy and probably not freaking out about lunch together later, like I was. Maybe this time I'd go hungry.

"Because it's hilarious to get the better of them." Except that most of the time that backfires with me getting involved in some shady secrets, but no matter.

I lived through the rest of the morning fairly vicariously; in a total daydream, only tuning in when Professor Flitwick asked for me to demonstrate the colour change charm. Obviously, my aim to turn my pencil case red failed. It was now a sludgy brown colour that looked suspiciously like something unpleasant.

I was mildly annoyed, but not surprised when I saw Padma was eating lunch with Antony when I arrived in the hall, dragging my bag behind me and ignoring a small amount of jeering from the Slytherin table. I imagine I had created a lot more unpopularity in Lupin's class today. However, there was no stopping the fact that I flicked a quick gaze over there whilst walking. Mulciber's dark eyes caught mine and I felt myself blushing, looking away quicker than a lightning bolt. That niggling feeling of guilt was slightly overpowering.

When I slumped down opposite Antony and Padma they were busy discussing when they could next go in to Hogsmeade, probably, I mentally added with mild amusement, to Madame Puddifoot's teashop. A place I _never_ wanted to set foot in.

"It will probably be a few weeks," Antony was saying, giving me a nod of acknowledgement as I dived into my meal of steak, peas and mashed potatos. I looked up, cheeks crammed full, to see that Malfoy was watching me casually. Slightly embarrassed at currently resembling a hamster, I calmly stared back, not swallowing; my expression matching his. He started when he realised I had seen him, and gave me a disbelieving look as I refused to blink. Well, at least I was amusing myself.

"-Not after what happened to Katie Bell, anyway," The meaningful tone in Antony's voice pulled me from my staring match with Malfoy, and, gazing at the dark look in Antony's eyes, got the feeling I was missing something.

"What happened to Katie Bell?" I enquired through a mouthful of potato.

"Really, Meg?" Antony asked, seeming to think I was kidding. True, I was never that great or up to date with gossip, but there was obviously something quite big going on here. At least, Padma's expression of intense disbelief seemed to lend to that idea.

"What happened?"

"She was cursed by this bracelet, or necklace... or something," Antony's field of expertise obviously wasn't the female accessory, "She had to be taken to St. Mungos."

"Seriously?" I stopped eating, completely shocked, "Is she ok?"

"I don't know."

My concerns were somewhat sidetracked when I saw Terry's dark head enter the hall. In a split second decision, I sprung from my seat, leaving my meal half eaten.

Antony followed my gaze with confusion at my sudden conclusion to leave, and I saw his expression grow troubled,

"Meg, can't you let it go?" He asked, seeming a little frustrated,

"No, I can't," I snapped angrily, "He's not even the least bit sorry! Just because he's so perfect he feels he has to look down on everyone!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"You know what Antony?" I said, swinging my bag over my shoulder and cramming a last piece of steak into my mouth to fuel my escape, "You should never say that to a woman."

"She's right you know," I heard Padma say as I walked off.

I was in Slughorn's potions lesson when I finally ell asleep; evidently overcome by the warm, intoxicating fumes rising off the numerous potions in the room.

The dream I was having was something films are made of; with Dementors, Death Eaters, and some weird, bat things that fluttered by my head and made me wince. As is the way with dreams, people were there who I knew that I knew; despite their blurry, distorted faces. I was busy having a serious, heart to heart conversation with Malfoy and Neville when a voice cut across my sub consciousness.

"Miss Forester, I had no idea my lessons were so boring."

I jerked awake so quickly I hit my knee painfully on the side of the desk. Crippling over slightly and trying to focus my eyes, I caught sight of Professor Slughorn. Or at least, Slughorn's stomach. When I actually saw his face, he looked mildly amused at the fact that one of his students had just fallen asleep in his class. With the fact that all of the class was looking at me, I was mildly wishing the ground would eat me.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, trying to get my bearings. I was sure I had just been taking notes for today's potion. But maybe it had all got a little too boring. Well, obviously it had.

I flicked Malfoy an irritated glance. Of all the times he had the opportunity to hit me, he didn't take it. I much preferred his more amiable dream counterpart,

"Perhaps we should get on with the potion making," Slughorn cried happily, clapping his hands together, "I don't want anyone else falling asleep! Harry, m'boy, do I catch you looking drowsy?" And he waddled away to talk to the Chosen One, still chuckling.

I let my head fall forwards on the desk again, ignoring the loud 'thump' it made.

"I need sleep." I moaned into my parchment.

"Well, you must be a lot of fun at parties."

I actually sat up at that, surprised Malfoy had summoned such good humour, however scathingly he said it.

"Can you get my ingredients for me?" I tried, giving a wonderful false smile and knotting my fingers together in a giant stretch.

"No."

I waited a few moments as he moved off, hoping in vain he might relent and pick up what I needed after all. Obviously, that didn't happen, so I had to heave myself off my seat and slouch over to the ingredients cupboard with a big scowl.

Whilst teetering on the stepladder, staring groggy eyed at newts eyes, that appeared to be staring back, I caught remnants of a conversation between Slughorn and a few of his prized students. What I eventually heard was not to my taste.

"-Just a small get together," Slughorn was saying jovially, "But you can't dodge my invite again, Harry! I've got Cormac ready to come, and Blaise, and of course Miss Granger-"

"I have Quidditch practice then sir," Harry said forcefully, and I gave an appreciative smile at his evasive skills, "We need to practice since Katie's ill."

"Well I hope you won't evade my invite, Evan," Slughorn's voice turned to Mulciber, and I nearly dropped the jar of newts eyes in surprise. I hadn't though Mulciber was a regular member of the Slug Club. It was definitely not his scene.

"After all," Slughorn continued, "You'd be welcome to bring your plus one. Her rebellious streak is quite infamous amongst the staff, you know,"

I did drop the jar.

In between apologising, trying not to slip on eyeballs, and pretending I hadn't been eavesdropping, I wondered where along the line I had become 'infamous'. The thought of Snape gossiping in the staff room was really too humorous to consider. Surely, compared to people like Fred and George, I wasn't _that_ bad?

I caught Terry's eye as I was rearranging the jar display and felt my face grow hot. With a skill I didn't think I possessed, I had been rather successful in avoiding him after our brief argument; fleeing the common room when he entered, or actually going to do work in the library for a change. Maybe one good thing, such as better grades could be salvaged from my overreaction.

I wish I could say the same for Mulciber. The dark look he sent me as I lobbed a few jars back on the shelf told me quite plainly that I was definitely no longer his plus one for parties with Slughorn.

And whilst I would have been thrilled at that prospect a few months ago, now it felt like something inside of me and shrivelled, withered and died rather nastily.

I was ambling across the Stone Bridge a few hours later in the vague direction of the common room, observing my breath steaming before me like train smoke when Malfoy caught my eye; alone and leaning against one edge, grey eyes deep in thought.

I would have walked past him without batting an eyelash (or revert back to the old days where I would simply whack the back of his head and sprint off before he could see it was me) but at that moment I saw Terry emerge onto the bridge from the other side, heading my way. Yes, I was a coward, and I had the feeling that if I walked past him, I wouldn't be able to avoid a conversation; that would inevitably lead to me feeling even more foolish and in the wrong. Me and my stupid pride.

So, I dived next to Malfoy, using him as a tall and very blonde shield.

"I've run out of insults." Malfoy snapped the minute he saw me standing there, "So can you just get lost?"

"There you go again with the 'get lost or else'," I commented tiredly, leaning backwards against the barrier; my arms splayed comfortably on top of it, "You're a very unoriginal person."

"And you're not?" Malfoy snorted contemptuously, still looking straight ahead and ignoring me lolling next to him, "I'm guessing you will soon bring up the same subject you always do about me being up to something; then make a joke and then get angry when I won't tell you anything, and then storm away."

"Actually, I wanted to apologise." Terry was walking past now, and he hadn't seen me. Or if he had, he was being as immature as I was, which was rather unlikely. Either way, my focus on him distracted me from the conversation, and I let the words fall out my mouth. Irritating, as I would rather have kept them in there.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've just been overreacting so much lately," I sighed, turning round to face the same direction, a little bit nearer to him. He gave a small noise to show that this was annoying, and, like normal, I didn't try to correct it, "I mean, I get that whatever your problem is it's pretty huge, and that it's none of my business. I just got the sense you haven't got anyone to talk to about it-"

"Is this just another tactic to get me to open up? Because it's not going to work, Forester."

"Stop being so paranoid," I sighed, "I just got the impression you were lonely."

"Well," Malfoy snorted, "Even if I was, I doubt I'd be going to _you_ to make best friends."

"Yeah, yeah, we're enemies, I get it." I waved away his scornful attitude, "But I've seen you eating alone and looking all sulky and self-pitying. You so obviously want attention."

"And you're back to making jokes."

"Am I ever serious?"

He didn't reply, and I got the feeling my sparkling presence was not welcome. It was a shame, for Malfoy anyway, but I wasn't up for leaving just yet. The thought that if I went to the common room and might later run into Terry kept me standing here, next to this boy who so blatantly disliked me.

"Hey, remember when Hermione punched you?" I reminisced conversationally, trying to pass the time, "That was a fun day. Or what about when the hippogriff tried to eat you? I bet it was a set up-"

"So now you're going to torture me with you talking relentlessly until I tell you what I'm doing?"

"Torture?" I asked quizzically, "No, Malfoy, this is _companionship_. That seahorse incident tied us together, I reckon. We have to stick together."

Of course, I was joking, but the look Malfoy shot me at the re-emergence of the seahorse topic showed his interest in my company and peaked slightly. Maybe we should find the time to discuss that episode one day.

But for now, I sense my cue to leave before we made it too awkward. Looking for a dramatic exit, I noted his tie was hanging loose around his neck; as if he and tugged it free of its knot in a burst of anger. Or angst from being oh-so-misunderstood and alone.

With a grin, I whipped it from his neck, seeing how green suited me.

"I think this brings out my eyes," I observed, winding it round my neck and dodging his attempt to grab it, "What do you think?"

"Give that back, Forester."

"Try and make me," I smiled, and hastily retreated backwards out of his reach, giving a over the top wink in goodbye.

It was pretty good to feel I had got the better of him in my own, weird way as I finally made it to the first floor corridor, but there was the small sense (heightened by the fact the tie's smooth, cool fabric was still skimming against my skin) that I had been just the tiniest bit flirtatious. Believe me, I was not the type to flirt, in any way, shape or form, yet just a moment ago it had slipped out slightly against my will.

Well, one thing was for sure. With me dramatizing and being so melodramatic recently at least with Malfoy I could do either without causing damage. In a weird, unforeseen way, he had become a rock in the middle of the turmoil I had created amongst my friends. It was strange, but right now, I could say he more of a friend than someone who I disliked.

Yep, that was definitely strange.

I wondered if St. Mungo's was recruiting.


	16. Chapter 16

**I am returned! And despite a broken keyboard, a dead mouse (as in the electronic variety) and a bad sunburn I shall try and update this as often as I can! I wanted to say a special thank you to JohnnyDeppIsMine (you lucky thing :P) and Sherlein for all the great comments you've left me! I hope you both like the next 2 chapters!**

**Wherein a second year trashes our staircase, I try my hand at apologising, and blur my ferret friendship.**

Antony found me in the library the next day, scowling at the pages of _Advanced Potion Making_. I don't know how he managed it, as I was fairly certain I hadn't told him about my sudden desire to visit this place more often. I was a little embarrassed to be seen here, if I was honest.

"I wouldn't go out into the staircases for a while," Antony said conversationally, flopping down on to the chair opposite me, "Some second year tried flying a broomstick in the staircases. They're still putting the paintings back on the walls."

I flicked him an amused look, giving up on the book to lean forwards in my chair,

"I've got Divination with Terry later," I sighed glumly, resting my chin on folded hands. I saw the flicker of annoyance light Antony's eyes again. Our stubbornness with this stretched out no-talking system seemed to be as hard on him as it was us.

"Can't you just talk to him?" He asked hopefully, "I'm sure there's a story to it or something?"

"Did you hear Mclaggen is supposed to be dating Hermione Granger?" I said, wildly grasping for a change of subject, "That will keep him distracted from irritating the rest of us, I guess."

Antony didn't miss my feeble change of subject, and he waved away the topic,

"Of course," He said, "The mermaid in the bathrooms told me."

"I...sorry?" I asked feebly, slightly thrown off track.

"Oh, there's a mermaid in the glass window that likes to gossip with the prefects that go in there," Antony said dismissively,

"There's a prefect's bathroom?" I asked, suddenly feeling I hadn't been present at this school for six years. Or at least I'd been seriously wasting my time by finding so little out about it.

"Follow me," Antony said with what I decided was a very rebellious smirk, before helping me gather my books up. We trudged from the library, heading away from the staircases (to avoid what was sure to be a very angry, disgruntled Filch) and headed along the fourth floor, where he led me up a small, rickety staircase leading to the fifth floor.

I didn't see Mulciber until I nearly hit him. He was standing with a few Slytherins, all of whom observed Antony and I coldly, but made no comment. I believe my theory of them saving their breath for Gryffindors was fairly accurate. Mulciber's eyes were cold though, and my heart lurched in frustration at how easily I had shut his presence in my life out.

Somewhere along the line, probably from seeing that dull look of aversion in his gaze, my desperation overcame my pride, and my hand whipped out to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry." I said steadily, my eyes meeting his determinedly. Hell, now the words were out I might as well continue with it, "I was being totally stupid, and I didn't mean a word of what I said."

One of the Slytherins snorted. The other gave a wolf whistle. But Mulciber actually gave a small smile, the frosty look in his eyes thawing slightly.

"I suppose I wasn't particularly forthcoming either," He admitted in his quiet, level tone. Although this was a kind of victory for me, I could tell that hanging around much longer was going to be awkward. Mulciber seemed to think the same, "See you around, Forester."

Moving Antony away (for some reason, his legs had stopped working from surprise or shock) my heart felt slightly lighter than it had in days.

"So you apologise to a Slytherin, in front of his Slytherin friend, no less," Antony finally said, his voice weak with bemusement, "And yet you can't say sorry to a single, lone Ravenclaw."

"My mind works in mysterious ways, you know."

"You have that right."

"So where is this bathroom? It better be worth this trek."

"Just up here. That's Boris the Bewildered," Antony said, gesturing to the statue. I made a non-committal noise at the small sight-seeing comment, my mind still back a few corridors with Mulciber. I don't know why, but it _had_ been easier to apologise to him. I'd been on defensive mode all the same; with his friends nearby, but I'd done something I really doubted I could do with Terry. At least, not quite as casually. And certainly not today; there was a limit to how many times I could go begging for forgiveness. Maybe that's why Malfoy was so good to talk to; I never needed to apologise.

Oh crap.

I _had_ apologised. Just yesterday, something about saying sorry for nosing around in things that weren't my business. Of course, there was nothing wrong with apologising, but admitting I was wrong to someone like Malfoy? That was a major slip up, and probably didn't help his overlarge ego in thinking he could do no wrong.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn't notice we had arrived at the entrance to the prefects bathrooms until I heard Antony say in a perfectly serious tone,

"Rubber ducks."

"Seriously?" I asked incredulously as the door swung open. But I couldn't get much further in my ridicule as I laid eyes on the bathroom itself.

The room that stretched before me was so amazing my mouth actually dropped open. All the resplendent furnishings in the world could not compete with the bathroom that lay before me, sprawling with such beauty I couldn't believe I had been showering in some dingy old bathroom all these years. The walls; a shimmering pale saffron, ran smoothly into matching tiles; which only stopped with glistening sinks and in the centre of the room; a massive bath; almost like a gigantic hot tub; it's mosaic tiles glittering blue and gold in the candlelight. Now _this_ was the place to scrub up.

"Wow," I gasped, coming out of my reverie as I looked at the impressive sight before me, "It would actually be worth becoming a prefect just to earn a place like this,"

"If you were ever to stumble upon it again," Antony grinned, giving me a rather conniving wink, "I doubt you would get into too much trouble." I shot him a sharp look at those words. I had had no idea that my friend was such a rebel.

Sadly, the hour where I had to go to a stuffy tower room for a lesson of Professor Trelawney arrived, and I left Antony to trudge through the corridors; not quite getting my feet to move as fast as a student aiming for punctuality would do.

So, naturally, I was late.

I was a little taken aback when I entered the class at a leisurely pace (I heavily, and correctly, doubted that Professor Trelawney would even care) as I found them all camping in the centre of the room; lying back on cushions and blankets.

Up on the ceiling was a star chart; spiralling against dark blue paint that was only revealed when red curtains were drawn back on their spindly golden frames. Evidently, today's lesson was on astrology.

I found this quite convenient, as I could settle on the edge of the group and simply lie there for an hour, without the worry of being near Terry. Or the Slytherins. Here, I had opted for sitting next to Neville, who gave me a hesitant grin to show me he would rather be in his common room than reclining awkwardly on fluffy cushions.

"And as you see my dears," Professor Trelawney was rambling, gesturing dramatically at the ceiling, "Here we can see an example of Saturn is angled towards the planet Mars, which will no doubt cause violent disruptions in the day to day life, such as..."

I had to say it was a little reminiscent of the time that we all had to camp out in the Great Hall in our third year, swathed in squashy purple sleeping bags, and thick pillows. I seemed to recall several of these had been passed rather violently between Malfoy and I.

This brought me to a little re-enacting, as a few seconds later, a large, heavily stuffed frilly pillow connected with the side of Malfoy's head; scuffing up his hair. I feigned total, if unconvincing, innocence.

The only problem with astrology was that lying on blankets, and being rather comfortable, it was overly tempting to go to sleep. But, seeing as I had been late, the lesson was over sooner than I expected,

"I'm glad that's over," Neville said happily as we both staggered relieved to our feet with the rest of the class, "How was-"

"Get walking, Longbottom."

The drawling voice cut across Neville, who turned pink, but held his ground as Malfoy came to stand next to us, a sneer planted on his features,

"Don't worry about it, Neville," I said, waving off any possible retort he may have, "You have to save the breath around these kind of idiots."

Neville shot me an apologetic look, before disappearing towards the door.

"What a pathetic whimp." Malfoy sneered, and I flicked a degrading look in his direction,

"Says the boy who blatantly cried when I hit him with a pillow."

"I want my tie back, Forester." Malfoy's breath tickled my ear, which was strangely distracting as he ignored my comment, and I turned to him with a mildly innocent look as I moved towards the exit of this stifling tower room.

"I want never gets. Besides, you seem to be managing well without it," I commented, touching the knot of the current one around his neck. I then realised that was a little familiar, and hastily stuffed my hands in the pockets of my robes to stop them doing further damage.

"It's not mine."

"Oh lord," I laughed, "And which poor soul was forced to give up their tie so you wouldn't threaten to kill their families?"

Malfoy shot me a pained look, making me snigger more heartily.

"You can say what you like, Forester," He said in his usual, brazen tones as he walked with me down the spiralling stairs. The fact that he was walking with me was throwing me off the actual walking slightly, "But the fact is you obviously like spending time with me."

"Sure. Like a person enjoys the company of a crazed mass murderer. Or a Lethifold, perhaps,"

"You keep talking to me-"

"As it's impossible for you not to hurl an insult at me when I walk by," I put in sourly, dodging a few hesitant third years as we entered a larger corridor,

"And you keep looking at me-" Malfoy's tone was still sneering, as he simply muscled the said third years from his path.

"Because I can't believe how ugly you are."

"We both know that's not true, Forester." He was practically crowing now. It was time to set him woefully straight.

"Oh lord," I sighed, "I've created a monster."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, I liked you better arrogant, but this is something else."

"I haven't changed, thank you very much."

"Sure you have," I grinned brightly, flicking him a look to see if he was looking annoyed yet. So far, so good, "You were all dark and brooding before, but now you're back to being a really annoying little-"

His foot darted out in a rather first-year solution to our sort-of argument, and I very inelegantly fell over it.

I let out a very loud swearword, one that got a few of the first years nearby giggling. Malfoy was laughing too, yet I was certainly failing to see the funny side.

"Miss Forester."

Another swearword wanting to be issued as I recognised the voice, and I swivelled my gaze to see Snape seemingly appearing out of nowhere. I hated it when he did that.

"I fell over, sir," I felt grovelling was a necessity here as I staggered to my feet, "I hurt my knee, so I felt that profanities were justified."

"Be that as it may, swearing is against the rules,"

"Except in special circumstances, right?"

A few lookers-on tittered nervously as Snape's eyebrows descended,

"Detention, Forester," He said in his dangerously low voice, and I felt my heart thud in irritation, "Next Friday night, 8 o'clock, my office."

"But he pushed me over!" I protested, jabbing Malfoy in the chest. I was half expecting him to be snickering at what was playing out before him, but his eyes were fixed on Snape; and felt a rush of surprise at the coldness they held, "Where's _his_ detention?"

Snape barely glanced at Malfoy,

"Do _not_ be late," He finally hissed, before turning on his heel and marching down the corridor; causing the crowd to part hastily.

"Wonderful," I glowered, folding my arms, "Thanks a bunch."

"I would say sorry, Forester," Malfoy said, a smile back on his face as he matched my stance, "Except-"

"-You don't mean it." I finished for him, appraising him with mildly amused eyes, "And you're predictable once again."

"I guess that makes two of us."

I've seen those 'moments' in films, where the heroine and the hero glance at each other and somehow get tangled up in each other's eyes as if they're truly understanding one another for the first time. Then the cheesy music starts playing and I throw up a little in my mouth.

Obviously, there was no cheesy music here, and Malfoy and I were certainly not heroes or heroines. But there was a look in his eyes I couldn't quite bring myself to look away from; a look that was like he was shrewdly seeing me; underneath all the bluster and awful jokes I always had to come out with. It made me feel a little unnerved, like his gaze was blurring the lines between our twisted relationship.

"I have to go." I finally blurted out, and after a few seconds of awkwardly standing there, still under his scrutiny, I took off into the gathering crowds as they moved on to their next lesson, my brain raging with thoughts as if someone has seized it like a snow globe, and shaken it hard. What had that been about? True enough, it hadn't been an affectionate way of looking at someone, like Padma looked at Antony or how my mum used to look at my dad. But nor was it the usual look of disgust, or aversion. It was like, for a wild moment, we had become just a little bit more than people who exchange insults. And just a tiny bit more than friends, if that was even the right word to use. With Malfoy, I was never really sure where I stood. And that was the thing that, once quite a relief, was actually somehow now starting to annoy me.

The raging appetite that usually accompanied me to dinner was strangely absent as I sat on the row of benches at the Ravenclaw table later, observing how the gravy on my plate separated when I drove a knife through it, then, watching as it slowly merged back on itself.

I was strangely conscious of the fact that Malfoy was over on the Slytherin table; not sitting by himself this time, but still looking fairly glum. It was like his presence was radiating into my sub-consciousness, boring into my mind. Maybe it was his hair.

"Meg," Antony said in exasperation as I shook the knife over the china again, "That noise is making my hair stand on end."

"Sorry." I set the cutlery down with a sigh, casting an irritable look down at the pygmy puff Jade had sent my way a few minutes ago.

"Are you ok?" Antony's face was concerned when I looked at it, and I considered what a awful time I must be giving him with my stubborn will to ignore Terry who was sitting on his other side, and how morose my expression must be now. Hell, Malfoy and I were practically bookends.

"I'm good," I forced a smile onto my face, picking up my fork once again, "Just worried about what _that_ might end up doing," I jabbed my fork in the direction of Fitzwilliam, which, considering it had no face, did a very good job of looking bemused. I think I did good work in convincing Antony that the reason for my annoyance was due to Fitzwilliam, for he turned to start a conversation with Padma on the other side of the table, and I was allowed to fall back into the whirlwind of my mind, that was probably reading far too much into how exactly Malfoy thought of me. Up until now, I had been convinced I was like a pretty annoying fly, that he didn't have the capacity or lack of morality to swat dead. But that look in his eyes had been entirely different from someone frustrated by my presence. I wasn't even sure what it had been, maybe that same empathy he had looked at me with when Snape kicked me out the class, as if he got what I was thinking or feeling. The weird thing was, I myself wasn't sure half the time.

Later, I was exiting the hall the same time as a group of Slytherins, and I was expecting the exchange of insults that usually stemmed from an encounter with them; so I was mildly exasperated when they opened their mouths, instead of taken aback.

"Why the long faces?" One of them asked scornfully; their lip turning upwards, "Is it cos your common room is a pit?"

"Says the house that sleeps in the dungeons," I replied tiredly, turning to Antony and recoiled when I saw Terry next to me instead. At least now I understood the multiple long faces joke.

"Don't kid about the dungeons, Forester," Malfoy's voice floated into our conversation, and I flipped my eyes to him, odd tangled feelings of eagerness and expectation crashing slightly when I saw Pansy hanging onto his arm; looking up at him with a kind of devotion I hope my face never emulated with anyone for fear of causing others nausea, "They're very good for avoiding the rest of the stuck up houses."

"Get lost, Malfoy," Antony said, finally arriving with Padma to this small little showdown. I was pretty glad he had spoken. My eyes were fixed on Pansy's hands as they looped around Malfoy's arm for some reason.

"Let's go, Draco, these people are mudblood losers," She finally sniffed, winding a hand in his hair. I let my eyebrows rise in incredulity, any joke that I might usually have said getting lost somewhere in me, not quite mustering the will to snort.

Malfoy sent a smirk at the cluster of Ravenclaws, but I felt a swoop of hope for one absurd moment when his eyes flickered onto my face.

He hesitated for second, and then his face broke into a jeer,

"Yeah," He said, "They are."

He left the hall, leaving me gaping in the oddly parallel manner to that of a fish. That had hurt, and not so much for what he had said. It was that cold look in his eyes, that seemed to chill my heart, and made me feel like a fool. After all, I had spent these past few days practically flirting with him, and I had got the inclination he hadn't minded. But now it felt as if all that had been slapped back in my face. And none too gently.

With no hesitation, I decided to stop talking to Malfoy; and over the next few days found myself reverting back to the frosty silence that had so continuously occupied our relationship. It was as if all the friendly, even un-hostile factors of our connection had sunk down through quicksand. Seeing my reluctance and totally uncooperative state, he went further back to being his usual, arrogant and malicious self; no doubt confused at my sudden change of attitude, but none the more compassionate as to why.

But I couldn't have cared less. Or at least, I told myself not to. Here was me getting what I deserved for thinking that somebody like Draco Malfoy and me shared a 'moment'. Stupid sentimental films. His every flippant, rude words replayed in my head these next few days, and I found my anger growing stronger and stronger with each passing second. I've been told this a particular aptitude that women possess.

Soon, Mulciber was talking to me more frequently; and I began to catch the expression in his eyes when he was looking at me that told me he wanted to be a lot more than friends.

It was with the dreary, grey weather of February that we saw the snow finally degrading into soggy slush that soaked cold and unpleasant into your socks as you walked down through the grounds. Terry was still holding me in that frosty demeanour, and Antony was getting ambushed by Padma so regularly I could barely catch him on his own. For the first time in a while, I felt utterly lonely.

Not long after lessons began after the half term, Mulciber asked me out.


	17. Chapter 17

**I realised that sixth years don't actually have apparition classes until after Christmas, so I altered that slightly if you remember Seamus mentioning it in an earlier chapter...Ssshh.**

**Wherein I make amends, fall over my hoop and 'let' the eagle win a round.**

I think the thing that surprised me more than anyone was the fact that I said yes.

"So let me get this straight," Antony said in the common room that evening. The fire had been dying down whilst we spoke, warm in thick socks and pyjamas, "Evan _Mulciber_ from _Slytherin_ asked you out... and you said...?"

"I told you." I snapped, chucking the _Daily Prophet _I had been scanningonto the floor, finding it unappealing, "I said yes!"

Antony studied me for a moment, and then turned to Michael Corner who was sitting near the grate, appraising the carpet. He met his gaze and shrugged,

"Why?" Michael finally asked.

"Well, it's easy for you two," I said, feeling a little annoyed, "You have girls falling over themselves for you. I have never had anything! Surely you can't blame the yes that slipped out?"

"Girls?" Antony looked blank, "Who?"

"Padma Patil, you twit."

Whilst Antony looked as if the light had shone on him at last, Michael appraised me with a knowing look more worthy of Terry.

"And you said yes because you fancy him?"

"Are we playing chess or not?" I asked in frustration, gesturing to the board by my feet. Michael raised an eyebrow, but eventually shoved a random chess piece forwards.

Sighing and running a hand through my hair, I looked tiredly at my side of the game, and finally instructed a pawn to move towards Michael's king.

The pawn turned up to look at me, in a 'are you sure?' kind of way, which was really pretty cheeky of it.

"Get moving." I told it sternly. It shrugged.

I suppose I should have felt a little bad when the enemy pawn totally mashed it. But I was too distracted by Terry entering the common room at that moment.

"Take over Antony." I said, clambering to my feet,

"Meg-"

"Goodnight."

Alone in my dorm, I sank down onto my bed with a groan, face down as I let the smooth fabric encompass my surroundings. Sampson gave a dull hoot from the bedstead, as if offering words of comfort.

I finally rolled off the bed to get him an owl treat from my trunk. I moaned when I saw the mess I had made off it, and began sifting off layers of unfinished homework, underwear and late night snacks of Bertie Bott's Beans and Acid Pops.

My hands brushed against something smooth, feeling like rough paper. Curious, I yanked a few jumpers out the way, and felt a jolt of astonishment at what I saw.

Bending down, I picked up the present that Terry had got me for Christmas. I had completely neglected opening it; owing to the fact that at the time I had really not felt like celebrating Christmas and then simply totally forgotten about it, but now; the curiosity I had dulled so well finally got the better of me.

Folding back the scraps of wrapping paper, I found a hefty leather book in my hands.

"Oh no," I muttered, knowing exactly what it was. It was bad, because I knew right then that it was going to be impossible to stay mad at him.

It was a photo album; and Terry had neatly –as ever- stuck a collection of photographs that we had accumulated over the years we had been friends. The first page was when we were gawky first years; me complete with missing teeth and high pigtails. I didn't think it could get any hotter until the first-year-me did a happy dance at being photographed with Terry standing behind me; laughing uncontrollably.

I hadn't cried in quite a while, but the photos of happy times, forever frozen there for me to reflect on as the world around me whirled and changed, made my eyes sting slightly.

I slammed the book shut with such decisiveness that Sampson took off through the open window, looking exceedingly grumpy. His treats would have to wait. It was definitely time to stop my self-pitying and ridiculous brooding. I lobbed the album onto my bed and raced out the dormitory, hurtling past the milling girls on their way to bed.

I felt rather put out when I saw Terry and the others had headed up their dorm, but that sure as hell was not going to put me off as I took off towards the boy's dorms, dodging a few confused looking boys as I headed up to the sixth year's rooms.

I hammered on the door until Terry opened it, his eyes flickering between surprise, worry and a hint of resentment.

"I'm so sorry," I rushed, ignoring the looks I was getting that told me I seriously did not belong here, "I was so, so stupid, and you will probably never forgive me, and I can totally see why, but you are one of the best friends I have! You always know what to say, and do, and you were right. I _am_ immature. I mean, I've been dodging you for ages-"

"Not very subtly, I might add."

I chanced a quick look at his expression, unsure whether he was still angry. I jumped at the hope that I saw a faint glimmer of humour in his eyes.

"Well, when have I ever possessed the skill of subtlety, Terry?" I grinned hesitantly, wringing my fingers together nervously.

"That is an excellent point."

Before I could say anything else, Terry leant out the door to give me a quick, friendly hug. Damn not crying, there were definitely tears threatening to flood my vision now.

"Sorry about what I said," He muttered, stepping backwards once again,

"Sorry I was so melodramatic," I sniffed, debating how gross it would be for me to wipe my nose on my jumper right now.

"Are you friends again?" Antony asked abruptly, coming to the door, "Does this mean I can take my opportunity to announce my 'you are both the stupidest Ravenclaws I've ever met' speech? It's really rather good. I've had nearly two months to rehearse it."

"Save it for tomorrow," I smirked, "You may want to be rehearsing a 'Hey Padma, you wanna make out sometime?' speech instead."

Not to my surprise, the door slammed in my face not long after that.

On Saturday, the first apparition test of the new term was scheduled, where we trudged down to the Great Hall to find the tables disappeared and the heads of houses marshalling us all in. There was a buzz of excitement at the prospect of potential apparition, heightened by an old ministry wizard standing at the front of the hall; his white hair illuminated with the weak morning light coming through the glass windows.

He started speaking just as I leaned across to talk to Antony,

"So are you and Padma going out now, or what?" I asked in a whisper that I had perfected throughout the years that avoided me getting heard. Antony sent me an amused look, but before he could reply a sharp voice cut across the room,

"-be quiet and pay attention!" Mcgonagall's voice made me jump guiltily, until I realised it wasn't me she had reprimanded, but Malfoy, who was standing a few feet away next to Crabbe and Goyle.

I let out a loud snigger, so Malfoy, who was flushing slightly, could turn round and shoot me a filthy glare. It was like sugar for my eyes.

The ministry man was talking again, and with a causal flick of his wand, a round, wooden hoop appeared in front of each person. I raised an eyebrow at Terry, who fought hard not to laugh.

"The most important things to remember when apparating are the three Ds!" The man was saying eagerly, "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!" I was lost already, so I allowed myself to zone out slightly, spying the back of the dark head that belonged to Mulciber, only a few students away.

I suddenly realised everyone was doing a lot of scowling at their hoop in concentration, and I hastily dropped my gaze to mine, squinting through, over the top glaring eyes and trying not to snigger.

"-When I give the command, turn on the spot and feel your way into nothingness! One.."

I looked up incredulously. I hadn't even been listening. Was I supposed to be apparating now? It seemed a little ridiculous.

"-Two-" I scowled at Malfoy's head, wishing looks could kill. No, I really needed to concentrate.

"-THREE!"

I heaved a sigh, and spun on my feet a fraction later than the majority of the class, knowing full well this was a wasted attempt.

Not to my surprise, I met the floor face on.

I'm glad I wasn't the only one who fell over as I heard several thuds and exclamations of pain, but really, I would have preferred to stay upright like Terry and Antony, who were trying very hard not to laugh as I stumbled to my feet, brushing myself down hastily.

"Stupid hoop," I announced, kicking it. I kicked it a little too hard, as it shot forwards; ricocheting off the back Crabbe's foot. I was pretty glad Malfoy didn't notice me meekly shuffling forwards to reclaim it, as he was busy glaring at Harry Potter, who had evidently just said something impolite. I was cut off from a satisfying scathing remark I could have sent Malfoy by Ernie Macmillan practically crashing into me as he hurried away from Dean Thomas, who seemed to be laughing about a 'pirouette' or something.

The rest of the class was about as hectic and disastrous as the initial few minutes. I saw the teachers' faces slowly settle into those of deep boredom as the students spun around and around, nobody successfully apparating. I was half expecting Hermione to do it, but the most interesting thing to happen was Susan Bones splinching, which I have to say was pretty off-putting, and made me certain I would rather walk to places in the future.

"I feel a little queasy," Antony mumbled as we filed out the hall after far, far too much spinning and glowering at hoops.

"I think I've grasped the basic concept," Terry put in, which did little for our moods,

"Yeah," I snorted, "Just spin and spin and spin and-"

I cut myself off as Mulciber appeared next to us, a small smile etched on his face. I had to say he had taken to the role of boyfriend quite well, not that I had had much experience with them in the past. But I guess, not being clingy and actually addressing me with my first name was as good a start as any.

Before he could get a word out, however, Malfoy stalked past, sending me a sneer as he curled his lip upwards,

"How concussed did you have to make him before he agreed to go out with you, Forester?" He jeered, and I wondered if he realised that there were little Slytherins nearby to hear his comment. Maybe it was simply purely for benefit.

"Keep walking, Malfoy," I snapped, "Back to Grabbe and Coyle, or whatever the hell their names are."

I was half expecting another comment, but to my immense surprise, he actually did leave us with nothing but another scowl. I then became aware that throughout the course of that conversation I had somehow grasped Mulciber's hand in mine, winding my fingers through his.

"Oh," I said with a degree of surprise, wondering what had possessed me to do that.

_Because you fancy him_? Michael's words came back to my mind and I frowned, not overly sure that had been the reason. I tossed the doubt aside with a shrug.

Mulciber stayed with me until after lunch, when he disappeared back to his common room to do homework. I guess our relationship hadn't changed that much, spare the occasional hug of goodbye or when his hand found mine. I wasn't entirely sure I was comfortable with it, and I didn't know whether that was because it was Mulciber touching me, or that I simply didn't like public displays of affection.

I was trudging alone back to the common room, humming the school song under my breath. I sometimes hated having my common room up at one of the highest points in the castle. Nothing like a good bit of exercise before breakfast each morning I guess.

When I finally made it to the top of the tower, hands still stuffed in the pockets of my jeans, I met the gaze of the eagle knocker. I sighed heavily. Dumbledore obviously hadn't got my memos filled with my suggestions to get rid of it yet.

"Look who hasn't got the cheat sheet today," It crowed I got within earshot. I rolled my eyes angrily,

"Just get on with it," I barked, in no mood for its joking today. I was also a little concerned. I hadn't thought to bring my bag with me today.

"_Forward I am heavy but backwards I am not," _The eagle chimed in its sing song voice,_ "What am I?_"

"Erm..." I blew out my cheeks, trying to concentrate. How did Terry and the others manage to do this every time? It was growing particularly frustrating.

"See?" The eagle was obviously bitter from the number of times I had gloated in its face at no longer having difficulty getting into the common room. What was that about what goes around comes around? "Cheating gets you nowhere."

"On the contrary," I muttered, knowing for a fact that it was the only thing that got me through my potions exams. Still, the eagle was getting under my skin. It seemed to realise it too.

"Nobody else gets so confused about the riddles," It was definitely trying to irritate me now, "Not even the first years!"

"Well, that's showed me hasn't it?" I grumbled, debating on the worth of punching it. It would probably hurt me more, being bronze.

"Do you want me to say it again? Or will that just make it harder?"

"Listen here, you stupid lump of metal sh-"

"Are you actually talking to a wall, _Forester_?"

I spun round, and started when I saw Malfoy, his mouth pulled into a leer as he adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Beg your pardon?" I asked, a little flustered,

"Are," Malfoy was speaking slowly now, as if I were very thick, "You-talking-to-a-wall?"

"No-I'm-not." I matched his tones, turning to give the eagle knocker a nasty look, and was answered with a smirk, "I'm trying to get into the common room."

"Forgotten the password?" Malfoy's voice was sneering now.

"No."

"Well you blatantly have."

"There isn't a password." I had trouble separating my teeth as I was so busy grinding them together, wishing he would go away, "I have to answer a riddle."

"Looks like you'll be here all night then."

"Thank you for your help," I snapped, turning back to the eagle, "Can you repeat the question please?"

"Again?" It mocked, "You really think it will make a difference?"

"I swear to-"

"_Forward I am heavy but backwards I am not. What am I?_"

"What's with the sing song voice?" I fumed. I was tired, and dying to get out of these jeans. And totally put off from working out this crappy riddle with that sneering fool behind me.

"See you in potions, Forester," Malfoy's voice said, and I brightened at the thought of my improved chances at getting into the common room now he was leaving, "Have fun sleeping out here."

"Wait, what are you doing here anyway?" I asked, momentarily distracted, "I'm fairly sure this is as far away as you can get from the Slytherin common room. God knows what _that_ looks like."

"Just walking." I saw the glimmer behind his cool demeanour as his grey eyes shifted from mine.

"That's a lame excuse." I commented, raising an eyebrow, "You're walking up to the top of a dead end tower just for the exercise?" Malfoy shrugged, and I pulled a grin onto my face, "You were blatantly following me, right?" I was joking, but there was a cold look in his eyes that told me that, perhaps, that might have just been a little bit true. No, I must have misinterpreted the guilty look on his face.

"Why would I follow you?" He sneered, "You've been acting like you're going to explode lately. I'm afraid for my health."

"Maybe I don't take kindly to being called a mudblood loser." I countered stiffly. Malfoy's brows lowered, as if he were trying to remember when that had happened. Or on which occasion. Typical.

"Never mind." I muttered, turning back to the eagle, which was still watching me smugly. I honestly didn't know whether I would prefer Malfoy or the eagle right now.

"Can you at least give me a hint?" I asked, batting my eyelids with a large, false smile.

The eagle looked at me, as if pretending to consider this, then setting its beak firmly.

"No."

"So how are you and _Mulciber_?"

"Are you still here?" I asked in exasperation, turning to face Malfoy once more. His lip was still curled in derisiveness, and I wondered if this was his way of cheering himself up.

"What do you mean?" I asked blankly, giving up on the password and leaning against the wall in defeat,

"You are going out, aren't you?"

"Oh, that," I paused for a while, taking in his expression. Why was it so unreadable? Was he curious, or just disgusted? Or was he a little bit envious? "Yeah. It's good."

"You don't sound particularly convinced."

"Why do you care?" I shot, hoping for an answer. And I wasn't sure which one.

"I don't."

"So you're just here getting away from bad-guy related things, huh?"

"Get lost."

"This is _my_ common room, remember?"

"Fine," He made to turn away, then flicked me a smile I could have sworn was genuine, "The answer's the word 'ton' by the way."

"Bloody know it all." I muttered under my breath as he walked away. I didn't turn to give the eagle the answer right away, as I was strangely caught up in watching Malfoy head down the staircase, thinking how odd his appearance here had been. Was he really ambling about the castle alone? After all, I had seen him alone a lot recently, and hiding in corridors, like on the night of Slughorn's party. It definitely led to the confirmation that he was up to something, and I felt so close to working it out with all our conversations and me stumbling onto evidence and revelations. Yet at the same time, I really, really wasn't.

"Are you going to stand here all night?" The eagle said in a disgruntled tone, and I realised I had been stood here in pensive silence for a pretty long time, "Because I really have better things to look at than the back of your head."

Not dignifying that with an answer, I settled for shooting the answer at it, and clambering through the passageway. One thing was for certain, I decided, as I headed up the stairs to the dormitory, I needed to further my investigation skills. Being angry at Malfoy like this was getting me nowhere, and some small part of me wanted to go back to exchanging quips. Besides, the undercurrent of the knowledge that he was reluctantly sharing with me was downright funny if I kept teasing him about it. I knew I was indecisive and flittering between opinions, but I felt that, with Malfoy, I had the capacity to allow it. He wasn't my friend and he wasn't my enemy. He was just a very irritating boy who I supposed I was a little bit fascinated with. In a totally unattracted and unobsessive manner of course.

Of course.


	18. Chapter 18

****Sorry about the delay with this one... to be fair typing is a litte tricky when most of my keys have fallen off xD Hope you like the chapter- it's personally one of ma favourites :B****

**Wherein I take a bath, pickle rat brains and get hugged by a plant.**

I was fairly certain that Professor Sprout didn't see me as I half snuck-half ran into her class on Monday morning.

It was getting on towards March, and gradually, the frost on the grounds was fading with each passing week, seeming to let the sun climb just a bit higher, and shine a little brighter. It was still cold in the greenhouses though, and there wasn't a single student who had taken their outdoor robes off, shoulders hunched with the cold.

"You're in trouble," Terry whispered as I took my place next to him as nonchalantly as I could, "She's already taken the register." I flicked irritated glances at the people who were staring; obviously amused by my less than elegant entrance. Way to make it obvious, people.

"I'll say she simply didn't hear me," I said confidently, plonking my things on the dirty, soil ridden table, "Besides, I'm here now."

"Late night, then, was it?" Terry continued our hushed conversation as Professor Sprout carried on talking, gesturing to a rather venomous and angry looking plant in her hands. I still wasn't sorry to see the back of the mandrakes.

I shook my head. Truth was, I had been tossing and turning all night from a restless, dream-filled sleep; involving Mulciber's voice and a lot of Malfoy's face for some reason. Looking up from my bag, I started as I saw the exact same person on the other side of the table, looking somewhat intently at me.

"Is there a problem, Malfoy?" I hissed under my breath, letting a sly grin break my face, "Thinking of seahorses?" I'll admit, that comment was rather risky considering I had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, but nobody seemed to be listening. And it was totally worth it for the dark, mildly embarrassed look that crossed Malfoy's face.

"I was just about to ask if you actually managed to get your stupid head into your common room at all, Forester," He was quick with a retort, as if nothing had happened. Maybe I should bring up Voldemort to really speed up the intensity of the conversation. But for now I decided to move my attention on to more important matters.

"Do you reckon these are edible?" I muttered to Antony, who was squeezed in the cluster of people to my right, holding up a nightshade leaf. To be fair I'd missed breakfast, and I was growing desperate.

"No." Was the simple, dead certain answer I received.

"I thought you weren't talking to Malfoy after he was so horrible," Terry said tiredly later as I led him towards the rather intimidating looking plants we were working with today,

"I wasn't," I shrugged as casually as I could muster, "But annoying him is far more fun than silence. It's not like I'm going to get an apology."

"Or you just get drawn to him," Antony snorted from behind us, nudging me playfully. I stumbled and turned round to whack him, swallowing the thought that maybe, he was kind of right. I _was_ drawn to our weird relationship, whatever it was. Like I had told Malfoy, I liked arguing with him. But that was a fact that was definitely going to stay quiet.

The lesson was fairly uneventful, at least until the Venomous Tentacula grabbed me with one of its vines. It was pretty funny until I remembered that its bite was highly poisonous, but I suppose I earned a few cool points for causing class uproar and taking a few minutes out the double lesson. I was glad I wasn't poisoned; something told me going to Snape to ask for an antidote was unlikely to end well. For me, at least.

Walking up through the grounds towards the castle once more for what I considered a well earned break, Antony and Terry decided then was the perfect time for a race. I didn't even bother picking up my pace as they sprinted off ahead, irritating a few passing students by accidentally knocking them with their bags. I had long ago accepted that running on wet grass was a bad plan for me.

"So now you're back to stupid jokes and lame insults?" I flicked a glance to my right, and saw that Malfoy had sped up to talk to me. Apparently, he was a lot braver now I was alone.

"I decided it's more fun this way," I said casually, wondering if I should be surprised by his sudden appearance. After all, his friends couldn't be far behind. I swear there was an unspoken rule for Slytherins not talking to other people. At least not in a friendly manner. It was hard to say what this was.

"Oh," For some reason his tone was haughty with annoyance, "So I have to immediately play along and forget that we've been at each other's throats the past few weeks?"

"Yep." I said, squinting up at the sky. Dark clouds coming in over the lake seemed to promise rain.

"Well, how satisfactory for you. I suppose you always have to get your own way."

"That's rich, coming from you. Besides, it's your fault we fell out in the first place."

"I wasn't aware we were best friends to begin with."

"Either way, you owe me an apology."

"I think it's a moot point. Particularly as you play with my emotions like this." I looked up at the smirk set firmly on his face. But, unless I was looking too closely, his eyes guarded, as if at all times in the shadows of his mind, his secret lurked.

"I think we do equal damage," I finally said, smiling thinly.

"Or Meg can never admit she's wrong." He snorted. I was quite taken aback at this. Hadn't he been the one who agreed with Pansy over the name calling? Surely I had the right to not talk to him for a while, at least until I changed my mind? A twinge of anger hit my heart. Of course I did. He was the idiot here, not me.

"You know I almost forgot that was my name, what with all that 'Forester' being thrown around." I gave a half-hearted chuckle at my words, not missing that Malfoy didn't even attempt a smile. "Are you really mad at me?"

"Are we friendly enough to get mad at each other?" I noted his tone was rather sly now, "I just thought we were always angry for something."

"I'm not sure about that," I mused, ignoring the damp feeling in my shoes as the grass steadily leaked dew into my socks. "But I have noticed that we're hardly ever serious, you know."

"What makes you think me calling you names holds any lack of sincerity on my part?"

"See?" I stretched the word out like a little child, sending him a smile, "I think we need to set aside heart to heart time for some proper truths."

"No thanks."

"I thought we were great friends after I read your letter."

"Let's not go there, please." He sighed, and I realised again that he looked completely shattered as we began the few stairs towards the Entrance Hall. Didn't the boy sleep?

"Just looking at you makes me feel tired," I observed out loud in a rather upbeat tone, and I saw his eyes darken. Damn, I really wanted to know what his problem was.

"And I think we've just spent too much time together," He said suddenly, a faint drawl creeping its way back into his voice, "Go find someone else to talk to, now."

"Why don't you go and find Pansy?" I snorted, not quite keeping the bitterness from my tone, "She's probably wanting to mash your hair up with her troll hands again."

"Jealous, Forester?"

"What? Of her troll hands?" Malfoy looked at me with a sceptically raised eyebrow, as if he knew I knew that was not what he was talking about at all.

"No, I'm not jealous," I finally answered steadily, and came to a halt just outside the Great Hall, "Because I don't like your attitude. You know what you said about being at each other's throats? You caused that with your stupid hot and cold demeanour." Wow, that had been heavy. I had managed to eradicate all signs of irritation as we were walking up here until this point and I think I mirrored the flash of surprise that crossed Malfoy's face.

"Meaning?" He finally said shortly. Well, there was no backpedalling now.

"Meaning, you were seriously rude to me," I persisted, trying to keep my voice even, "And I wouldn't have cared, if you hadn't been so flirtatious earlier."

"Flirtatious?" I could tell Malfoy was finding this funny now, and I felt my temper rising.

"Don't worry about it." I snapped, tossing my hair over my shoulders, "Just don't expect me to be around every time you feel like whining about life."

"And what makes you think I want you around?" Malfoy's tone was harsh as he leant closer to me, and I think now we were both reacting off rising tempers.

"Because every time I turn around you're magically there." I whispered back, "I could almost say you were following me." I ignored how my face was getting closer to his. Aggressively, I suppose.

"Are you sure it's not the other way-"

"I obviously won, Meg!" Antony's voice cut across Malfoy, and I pulled back from my proximity to Malfoy, turning to study his eager, breathless face as he paused before me, leaning forwards to catch his breath. Antony seemed to realise who I was talking to just as I glimpsed Terry muscling through the crowds.

"What does he want?" He asked coldly, fixing Malfoy with a very hostile stare.

"Get a grip, Goldstein, I was just leaving." Malfoy snorted, turning to fix me with a cold sneer, "Look forward to the next time you grace me with your obsessive stalking, Forester."

"Yeah." I said tiredly, not really listening. It was only when he was vanishing into the crowd that I worked out what he had said. "Hey! You're the crazy stalker!" Naturally, that lame verbal attack didn't even merit a departing sneer,

"What were you talking to him for?" Terry asked, finally arriving next to us, still a little out of breath.

"Pushing his buttons." I shrugged as offhandedly as I could manage. I suppose it was true anyway. I always managed to irritate Malfoy without trying. A wonderful gift, really. I was glad that we all became preoccupied with squeezing past people into the hall; Terry seemed to be eying me suspiciously.

The rain clouds that were slowly moving in overhead finally released a flood of rain at dinnertime. The hall rang with the usual clatter of cutlery and laughter, but now along with the rumbling of thunder and the growling of the wind.

"Great Quidditch weather if this keeps up, right?" Antony was telling Roger Davies, who was looking thoroughly fed up now as he scowled at the contents of his plate.

"Oh dear, what a shame." I put in falsely, suddenly not feeling the least bit sorry I was no longer on the team. Roger flicked me a fractious look,

"You'll play if any chasers can't make it." He reminded me astutely.

"Meg, don't you have a detention soon?" Terry asked as he sat down beside us, swinging his legs over the bench. I moaned, having pushed that memory aside temporarily and had now totally forgotten about it.

The detention that Malfoy had gotten me into a few weeks ago when he pushed me over (the fact that I had sworn loudly was totally irrelevant here. I was convinced it was _his_ fault.) had been postponed for this week, as I had the unfortunate and totally unintentional habit of being too late for it for Snape to actually have time to punish me. I knew there was no wriggling out of it, by hell I was going to try.

"Yep," I said, feeling a small plunge of dread as I grabbed Terry's arm to study his watch, "And I need to be there...oh... fifteen minutes ago."

Squirming from my rather cramped space on the bench without another word, I rushed towards the doors at a small run, half-scanning the Slytherin table so I could give Malfoy a glower to make myself feel better about this whole ordeal. Strangely, he wasn't there, and I instead picked up a smile from Mulciber. The feeling of guilt that I hadn't waited for him after Herbology and had instead been busy reprimanding Malfoy for his bad mind-set didn't lend much to improving my mood.

Not to my surprise, Snape didn't look amused at my lack of punctuality as I sprinted into the Potions classroom. So, I braced myself, yet again, for a tirade of sarcasm and frosty scolding.

"Miss Forester," Snape's voice was ice cold, and I suppressed a shiver despite myself, "That's an extra forty minutes you will be staying here."

"I'm only twenty minutes late!" I exclaimed in protest, taking in Ron Weasley sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. I distantly remembered it probably had something to do with Ron being overheard calling the potions master an 'overlarge, greasy bat' after a particularly gruelling lesson the other day. Sure, we all thought it, but Snape obviously wasn't fond of the nickname. Now, Snape's mouth was twisting unpleasantly.

"Yes?" He asked, almost challenging me to make matters worse for myself.

I set my jaw angrily, trying to stay silent. Sometimes, I wish I could have been put in Slytherin to at least be treated well by this evil teacher. I didn't think I could handle sharing a dorm with Pansy though.

"So what am I doing?" I sighed, plonking myself down on the desk next to Ron.

"You're pickling these rat brains in these jars." Snape said, and I looked darkly at the gleam of vicious pleasure his eyes held as he slammed a selection of glass jars down in front of me, "No magic, or talking, allowed."

"Lovely."

Snape left not long after, probably to go and sleep hanging from the ceiling. I would have gone there and then, except that he had taken my wand.

"Well, this sucks."

"This is nothing," Ron said with a dry smile, "Neville once had to disembowel a barrel of horned toads in our forth year."

I was actually feeling a little sick by this point, so I mentally grabbed the nearest subject to talk about.

"The next Quidditch game should be good," I commented as I attempted to pick up a rat brain with two of my pencils acting like chopsticks in a lame attempt to avoid touching brain. I knew things were getting desperate if I was talking about Quidditch, "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, right?"

"Hufflepuff, actually." Ron said, just as my rat brain slipped from my grip and hit the floor with a pleasant squelch like some weird mutant potato, "And I've got my birthday right beforehand."

"At least then-"

I cut myself off as I looked up. Standing in the entrance the classroom was Malfoy, and the glower on his face told me we were not the people he was expecting to see here.

"Looking for Snape, Malfoy?" I asked, causing Ron to look up in surprise, "Got to say that's a little hypocritical after how much you took the mickey out of Harry for having remedial potions last year."

"Where is he?"

"Dunno. But if you see him, tell him to give me back my wand. Rat brains were not made for touching."

"I'm sure mudbloods are immune to that kind of thing. You're all vermin, you see."

This scathing comment was somewhat ruined by the small wink he gave me. I faltered slightly. He had certainly not done that before.

Ron came to my rescue by lobbing a rat brain at his direction, causing him to get lost pretty quick.

"Git." He muttered darkly, "What I wouldn't give to jinx him in the face."

"It would almost be worth the years of detentions Snape would give you." I pretended to agree, wondering why I didn't actually feel inclined to hex Malfoy at all, "I wonder why he was looking for Snape?"

"To bribe him for his next potions grade?" Ron shrugged uncaringly, dropping a brain into a jar that came with a rather unattractive sound effect,

"He has been weird this year," I mused, wondering how Ron would react to knowing what I knew. Strangely, I dismissed any thought of telling him anything instantly. I suppose that, one; I barely knew him and two; it felt much too like gossip. How could I divulge something that was clearly meant to be a secret? I couldn't bring myself to do that, even if it was someone like Malfoy. And I had the strangest feeling, that perhaps maybe, I was the only other who knew about his link with the ghosts and Voldemort. And for some reason, I really quite liked that.

Ron hadn't noticed my hesitation.

"You sound just like Harry," He chuckled, shaking a jar to see its effect on the rat brain. It wasn't pretty. "You two are obviously part of a conspiracy."

"Malfoy's the one with the conspira-"

"I believe I said no talking."

We both winced as we heard Snape's voice from the doorway, hastily dropping back to silence and speeding up the rate of our rat brain pickling quite considerably. I had to surrender to the tips of my fingers now, my pencil chopstick theory failing in practice.

Still, I had enough to think about as Ron and I fell into the almost-silent pattern of chucking brains into liquid-filled jars (almost-silent as there was a revolting splash each time that was putting me off potatoes more and more). Was Harry onto the same kind of trail as I was? I suppose the best way to find out was to come out with it and ask him, but yet again, it would involve divulging what I knew, unless I was really sneaky about it; something I wasn't famed for. And why was I caring so much about this? Who _cared_ what Malfoy was doing? Admittedly, he was doing something that was definitely frowned upon, if it had had consequences as severe as it had. But what? How could you make ghosts disappear? And why?

Unfortunately, it was me and my brain (and there were way too many of those around right now) stuck in an endless loop of questions until Snape declared my grandeurs collection of pickled rat brains 'satisfactory'. At eleven o'clock. I was nearly ready for murder as I staggered out the dungeons, giving Ron a 'goodnight' in a tone more worthy of a fellow war comrade.

I was halfway to the common room when I debated how much my legs and mind were aching. The memory of my mum running warm baths after long days out walking suddenly rushed at me, almost overpowering. A bath. Anything to get that rat brain stink off my body. Normally, I would have to put up with the rather disappointing bathrooms that Hogwarts provided for the 'common' students, but now I was in on a secret. All thanks to Antony.

The statue of Boris the Bewildered served as a landmark for me as I passed it, wary of running into teachers or Filch. I was creeping along quite dramatically, and it didn't take much to recall the password I had heard Antony say the other day.

"Rubber ducks." I whispered, still shaking my head at the absurd code word. I felt a swoop of sneaky satisfaction as the door swung open, and I darted in, closing the door softly behind me.

Running the bath didn't take nearly as much time as I had thought it would, given that the bath was more worthy of being named a swimming pool. I had to say I had way too much fun with the thousands of taps scattering the bath's edge. Purple, pink, yellow and other hues of colour spurted from the taps, emitting an array of scents and bubbles. Stumbling into the bath with a graceless splash and sinking down with a large sigh, I felt that Hogwarts and seriously outdone itself.

I was content to sit there for at least an hour before finally working my way to bed, but I was somewhat interrupted by the creaking of the door opening only a few minutes in. Needless to say, instinct kicked in and I sunk rather low into the bath, deeply grateful that I had thought to add tonnes of bubbles.

I emitted an odd noise, like a half-squeak, half-grunt of irritation at the blond haired boy I saw there.

"Do you mind?" I said stiffly; up to my chin in bubbles, "I'm a little busy here."

I would never have thought of Draco Malfoy as the type to turn bright red, but by hell he succeeded at it now.

"You are _not_ a prefect," He finally managed; looking off towards the stained glass mermaid like it was the only thing in the room. Anywhere but looking at the naked Ravenclaw, I guess. He paused for a while then seemed to recover some swagger, "_That's_ for sure."

"I'm very much aware," I answered, my voice a little bubbly as I sank lower down, "I'm living up to my rebel reputation by having a bath here. How's that for beating the system?"

He gave a small smile, as if he found me a little amusing. Given that all my other jokes resulted in him looking disgusted, I figured it would have made anyone else collapse with the hilarity.

"Why are you here?" I finally asked, rising up a little to avoid choking. Malfoy looked hastily away again. "I'm fairly certain you've not relocated your dormitories to this floor, and you don't strike me as the bathing type." I grinned as I pictured Malfoy and a rubber duck. Definitely _not_ compatible.

"I'm just walking." He said swiftly, and I arched a very disbelieving eyebrow. What a wonderfully common excuse from him.

"Uh huh." I sighed, not bothering to pick that answer apart. Honestly, I think surrender might be more beneficial to my mind right now. I casually lifted a foot out the water, wrinkling my toes in an attempt to pop the bubbles accumulated there,

"What?" Malfoy's tone was scornful now. That was quite the bounce back from finding someone you hated bathing, "No sarcastic quip? That bath must be water-logging your mind."

"Guess I'll have to get out then," I grinned as the uncomfortable Malfoy returned, "You've totally ruined relaxation time anyway."

I half raised my leg out, then flicked him a sour glance,

"This is the part where you look away."

I would almost have said he smirked in between snorting and turning round, but I decided the bubbles where obscuring my vision as I clambered hastily out and engaged in the fastest dressing the world has ever seen.

I was sorely tempted to sneak out and leave him standing there just for the last laugh, but I was interjected by the loud clunking of drains, followed by the speedy emergence of Moaning Myrtle as she swooped out from one of the taps. I had only come across her a few times whilst in the girl's bathroom, and having a hormonal ghost telling you her life's-or death's- woes whilst you needed the bathroom wasn't the greatest start to a good impression.

She first took in Malfoy, and I was astonished to see her face light up with pleasure, only to be dulled a second later when she saw me. I snorted. I guess ghost teenage girls were about as bad as living ones where boys were concerned.

"I thought you were coming to talk to me." She said with an overly dramatic sigh, looking wistfully at Malfoy. I felt my mouth drop open slightly. Be more subtle about it.

"Why would he do that?" I asked, trying not to laugh, "You're normally in the girl's bathrooms."

"And I'm not free to move about?" She cried, her voice rising in pitch as she rounded on me. I put my hands up in surrender, "Just because I'm _dead_ doesn't mean that I can't roam as freely as any of you. So _there_."

"Right," I said tiredly, wondering how my plans for a relaxing bath could have gone so array, "Well, I'm calling this weird party a night."

I headed towards the door, throwing it open just as Malfoy caught up with me. Apparently he wasn't comfortable being stuck in a bathroom with a ghost who evidently fancied him.

I was about to comment on this when my eyes were caught by the small, grey cat sitting in the hallway; its yellow eyes fixed in my face. Any remark I may have had turned to a strangled croak in my throat.

"Very slowly," I whispered, not moving my glare from Mrs Norris. "Back up slowly."

"Why?" Draco evidently hadn't seen what I had, or he would his kept his stupid voice down.

Mrs Norris gave a loud meow.

Not stopping to think, I grabbed Malfoy's arm and legged it down the corridor, almost tripping over my feet in my haste to get away from that wretched cat before she brought the wrath of Filch down on us.

I heard Malfoy breathing beside me, feeling a little disgruntled as he easily overtook me. Tapestries and moonlit windows rushed past us; blurring as we sprinted through corridors and down staircases, leaping down stairs three at a time; arms pumping madly.

Suddenly, it struck me as to how hilarious this situation was. Running through our school due to being looked at by a mangy, grey tabby cat.

I was too busy wheezing with laughter now to look really look where I was running. The result was me hurtling headlong into Malfoy who had suddenly skidded to a halt.

"Shut up!" He snapped, pressing a hand over my face. I scowled, getting the feeling of déjà vu.

We listened, but there was little more to be heard than the mumbling of portraits throughout the dark corridors.

"You reckon we're safe now?" I asked in a tone that clearly showed I wasn't seriously concerned whether or not we were. I had to say, running through the castle like this was peculiarly fun.

"I know _I_ am," I turned to look curiously at the small smile twisting Malfoy's face, "My common room is only one floor below this one."

"What?" I exclaimed furiously, "That means I'm miles away from mine!"

"You ran this way." Malfoy stated with an unsympathetic shrug.

"Maybe I would jinx you after all." I muttered under my breath,

"What was that?"

"What are you doing, Draco?" I shot out quickly, hoping to catch him unawares, "What are you doing that's so secret?"

"Drop it." I took an impulsive step back as he leant forwards to hiss these words, "I can't tell you-"

"Can't?" I repeated, frowning thoughtfully, "So you're being made to do this...thing?"

"Of course not," Malfoy snapped, straightening with the old swagger he used to simply consist of. Ah, the good old days. "I chose it. I was _chosen_."

"Sounds like you're being made to do it to me," I muttered dryly, "You can tell me you know. It's not like I'd spread it around. And if you're the oh-so-special chosen one-which sounds a little twisted by the way- then you _can_ tell me."

"No, I can't." I didn't miss the edge of desperation in his voice, as if truly, he really couldn't. I guess that proved my point on the being forced to do it hypothesis.

"What if I guessed?" I suggested with a guileless smile, trying to make light of this, "You'd tell me then, right?"

"I thought I said drop it, Meg."

"First names?" I grinned triumphantly, "But that's only 'cos you're really desperate for me to leave you alone, I guess?"

"I'm not asking."

"Oh, right, I forgot." I felt my temper rising slightly at the almost strained arrogant look in his eyes, "You don't ask, you just order people about."

"That's-"

"You know what, _Malfoy_?" I snapped, taking a step closer to him, "I would have liked it a lot better if you actually had asked."

I don't know what I expected for that outburst; maybe for him to unleash another sarcastic remark, or another self-important speech on how special he was to have been _chosen_. But I was not expecting Malfoy to put his hands on each of my shoulders, and look down into my face,

"I am _asking_ you to stop digging into this."

His eyes were blank as he spoke, almost narrowed; but I didn't catch any hostility in him, it was more like a veiled despondency or desperation. Naturally, it made me _want_ to keep digging, but there was a pleading in his tone, that took the fight out of me. Well, most of it.

So instead, in a completely feeble tone, I agreed.

"Ok."

"Right." He straightened up, releasing me. I meekly noted that the skin underneath my shirt where he had touched me was warm from the contact, "Have fun getting back to your common room."

I caught the smirk he sent my way before turning on his heel and striding away. I took that to mean goodnight.

"You know one day the wind will change and set your face like that forever," I called after him, fighting a smirk myself.

"I think that nobody would notice the difference, Forester." Came the casual reply.

To that, I had no response other than a very immature giggle.

Damn.

I was as bad as Myrtle.


	19. Chapter 19

**Again, sorry for the long time between uploads! My fingers are too slow at typing :P Thank you for all the favourites and reviews- keep them coming people- they make my day! **

**In which me, a hormonal ghost, **_**and**_** a dungbomb explode**

"Potatoes, Meg?"

I don't think Terry took my look of vindictive disgust seriously, as I ended up with a plate piled high with boiled potatoes thanks to him. Honestly, sometimes I felt like I was never taken seriously.

It was nearing the end of the week, and the amount of homework sixth years were getting was increasing dramatically, much to our resentment. All anyone was really looking forward to was the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and Gryffindor next weekend. Kind of. Hufflepuffs didn't seem to share the enthusiasm. I suppose they had gotten flattened by Gryffindor too many times.

"How do you spell 'pseudonym?" I asked, chewing the tip of my quill as I scowled down at a nasty essay Snape had set. Terry shot me a disapproving glance. I don't think he could ever understand what possessed someone to do their homework in a crowded, noisy hall.

"Why?" He asked, leaning across me to read what I was writing,

"You know, that weird plant thing we're using-"

"That's Podophyllum peltatum."

"Oh."

I could tell Terry was trying very hard not to laugh, so I was relieved when Antony sat down opposite us, his face shining almost as brightly as the candlelight reflecting off his sandy hair,

"What's wrong with you?" I grinned, ignoring my essay now and instead spooning jelly into my mouth, potatoes ignored.

"I just asked Padma out." He said in an exultant tone, stretching his arms luxuriously.

"And she said no right? That she was only pretending to fancy you to make Terry jealous?"

Terry snorted into his ice cream.

"She said yes." My attitude was evidently not enough to put out Antony, who looked like he was currently inhabiting cloud nine.

"Huh-ray," I said sarcastically, not quite hiding a grin, "And how long did that take you? Since September? Even _I_ got a boyfriend before you."

"Technically she's my _girlfriend_." Antony said with a small smile that caused Terry to choke on his pudding again, "And how long did it take _you_ to spill the beans? But I suppose I was impressed with your secret keeping skills."

"Lay anything on me. I'm great with secrets," I announced, unfortunately timing that with Malfoy walking past, alone again. He sent me a furious look as if he thought I was trying to be nosy again.

"Except for the dark, dangerous ones," I called loudly after him, "Those I just couldn't care less about."

"Erm," Terry asked as I turned back to my pudding, mashing ice cream into my jelly, "What was that about?"

"That? Oh, nothing." I said unblushingly.

"Hey, uh, Meg," Antony's voice was cautious, as if he didn't really know how to react to whatever he was talking about, "I think Mulcib-uh...Evan wants your attention."

"What?" I asked sharply, looking up to follow his gaze. Sure enough, at the end of a small cluster of Slytherins on their table, Mulciber was looking in my direction. As I caught his eye he jerked his head, motioning me over.

"Be right back." I muttered, heaping my bag and my plate of jelly into my hands.

"They have a very weird relationship," I heard Terry say the minute I was nearly out of earshot. I snorted. There was no disagreeing with that one. I had been meeting Mulciber a lot these past few weeks, but there were still situations like these where I wasn't totally sure how to react. Until now I thought it was forbidden to even sit on another house's table. Oh well.

Mulciber, on the other hand, seemed relatively at ease as he set down a cup of butterbeer, sending me a rather pleasant smile.

"Sit down, Meg."

"I...sorry?"

My eyes flickered around the people he was sitting with. Sure, there were no big names, like Pansy, or Crabbe, or Goyle. Or Malfoy. But still, Slytherins were Slytherins, right?

But I plonked myself down anyway, my plate clattering against the table, hunching my shoulders awkwardly and wishing there was a spell that enabled you to sink through the floor.

"Zabini and I are going to Slughorn's tomorrow night," Mulciber said conversationally, and I wondered at how our roles had reversed. Me sitting tensely on the bench, ready to leg it; with him relaxed and apparently oblivious to this uncomfortable situation. Zabini flicked a casual glance at the two of us as his name was mentioned, then obviously decided we were not worth the valued seconds of his time, and returned to his dinner.

"Oh," I said weakly, stuffing jelly into my mouth for a bit of sugar courage, "What a great way to spend your-"

"Do you want to be my plus one?" Mulciber asked, cutting across my sarcasm with a mildly amused raised eyebrow.

"Oh." I said again, swallowing heavily, wondering what to say. The honest answer was definitely _not_. But the polite, girlfriend answer was an enthusiastic agreement.

I settled for somewhere nearly halfway between.

"Sure." My tone of voice was not that of a person eagerly awaiting tomorrow night, but it was an agreement.

I actually managed to eat my pudding and have a rather light hearted conversation with Mulciber, despite the occasional uncomfortable prickle of unease that came from Zabini or another Slytherin shooting me judgmental glances.

"So is this a black tie occasion?" I asked Mulciber as we left the hall, and I caught the frown on his face and hurriedly rephrased what had been the muggle version of the question, "Do I need to dress up?"

"Oh, not dramatically," Mulciber said with his small smile, "But at least so we look nice whilst we pretend to be having a good time."

I laughed at this, and as we came to the Entrance Hall, I turned to give him a goodnight hug before he headed down to the dungeons, and me up to Ravenclaw Tower.

I was totally taken aback, however, when he pressed a kiss on my cheek; his breath warm against my skin as he whispered a small goodnight.

"See you later," He called softly over his shoulder, leaving me in a kind of half-frozen state.

"Sure." I finally replied, although he was completely out of earshot.

I came to the decision, as he disappeared out of sight towards the lower floors that I really needed a walk. Somewhere where I could distract myself with my surroundings; distract myself from all the people I was letting bewilder my life. The well-trodden path to Ravenclaw tower was hardly going to offer me any distractions, so I opted for leaping up the few flights of steps leading to the first floor to amble around.

The corridors here were growing shadowy as candles spurted to life; their orange glow dancing off the intricate details of the windows offering a view of the darkening grounds. A soft patter of water on glass drifted to my ears as a few raindrops hit the various panes; promising the beginning of a rainy weekend.

I jumped wildly as two figures seemingly detached themselves from a sharp corner, murmuring in undertones that convinced me they were up to no good. One caught sight of me, and two identical flashes of red hair were illuminated in the candlelight as they hastily straightened up, though failing to disguise a rather impressive amount of dungbombs in their arms.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked Fred and George Weasley sceptically, eyeing the armful of brown pellets they were currently carrying.

"We are innocently moving a pile of dungbombs," Fred explained instantly, a gleam in his eyes making him not quite believable,

"Someone could trip over them, you see," George added.

"A definite fire hazard," Fred agreed, and I raised an eyebrow, not the least bit fooled.

"Uh huh."

"But just for the record," George added, still edging towards the stairs, "If there happens to be a rather loud explosion in the dungeons, you know nothing about it, right?"

"My lips are sealed."

That small moment of bonding in rebellion was interrupted by the small meow of a cat.

I don't think any of us misinterpreted the telltale sound of Mrs Norris somewhere round the corner. The twins were obviously used to it, as whilst I leapt a foot in the air, they immediately dropped the majority of the dungbombs, making hastily for the stairs not far along the corridor.

"Here," Fred said, pausing to give me a slightly wicked grin, "Hold this."

And he flung the dungbomb at me.

Luckily for me, the thing didn't actually explode, but I still didn't appreciate the gesture. Particularly if Filch were to come round the corner at any given moment.

"Don't chuck dungbombs at me!" I screamed after the twins' retreating backs.

Trying to hurry at the same time, I frantically lowered the dungbomb to the floor as cautiously as I could manage.

That ended quite successfully, and as I stepped back, I began to sprint in the direction of the hospital wing. However, it was less successful when I hurtled headlong onto one of the dropped dungbombs.

It burst, and showered me with gross smelling liquid. I resisted the urge to vomit there and then.

Gagging and retching, I staggered in the direction to the nearest bathrooms, the gunk obscuring the majority of my vision. Hell, I didn't even care if Filch came anymore. I just needed to get this muck off of my face.

It turned out I wasn't alone in the bathrooms, for after wiping the grime from my eyes (whilst muttering a few curses on the twins and the inventor of dungbombs) and examining my reflection in a stain flecked mirror with a grimace, I saw Moaning Myrtle watching me morosely, picking a spot on her chin.

"Oh." I was too surprised to really voice anything else, and simply turned my attention back to my rather ruined uniform. Drawing my wand from my pocket, I squinted down at my dripping skirt, and said determinedly, "_Scourgify_!"

Naturally, in between half of the mud vanishing, my skirt heated up; smoking slightly. I comforted myself with the luck that I had not tried that spell on my hair.

"You're not very good at magic are you?" Myrtle said conversationally, doing a lap of the bathrooms and emitting a very loud sigh.

"Story of my life, Myrtle."

"Did you know you are in the boys' bathrooms?" Myrtle continued, and I started slightly. Looking around, my eyes lighting on several urinals scattered on the walls, I realised she was probably right.

"Oh." I said again, feeling the heat rise to my face, but hastily covering this by splashing more water on my face. Great, I smelled like a walking public bathroom, "So why are you here?"

"I was waiting for someone."

"Yeah?" I tried not to laugh, "That's a rather odd place to wait for somebody, you know. Why not outside like normal people?"

"Because I talk to him privately!" I could tell she was getting irritated; her voice was rising dramatically in pitch, "We're the only two people who understand each other!"

"Let me guess," I sniggered a sudden idea amusing me, rubbing my hands on the towel, "I'm going to say...you and Malfoy have been sobbing together over your terrible life-or death- dramas."

Myrtle went quiet for a few seconds, and then, with alarming speed; shot forward a few metres, so she was barely a centimetre from my face. I fell back against the sink in shock; ignoring the wrench of pain as my back collided with hard marble.

"He TOLD you?" She screamed in a mixture of rage and incredulity, her hands balled into fists.

I had to say that was not the reaction I had been expecting.

I'd said the first person who had come into my head, which, as was common these days, happened to be the Slytherin boy I seemed to be spending _way_ too much time with. I'd expected Myrtle to screech something about how nobody understood her and then watch her dive down a toilet or up a sink to leave me in peace.

But here I was, backed against the sink by a hormonal, angst ridden ghost.

"I bet it's because you have a fringe," Myrtle was wailing, half rambling, her face still far too close for comfort, "It covers a lot of bad skin conditions I suppose-"

"What on earth are you talking about?" I was totally perplexed now, I had been joking about Malfoy, but Myrtle's reaction definitely leant to the idea it was half true.

"I don't see why he's friends with _you_!" Myrtle seemed pretty distraught now, and if not for her talent of being able to slide through walls, I would have run off. But something told me there wasn't much stopping her from following me down a corridor, lamenting my apparently close friendship with Draco Malfoy, "We understood each other so well-"

"Hold on," I was determined to get control of the situation now, "Malfoy's been in here crying? Seriously?"

"Of course he has!" Myrtle pouted, readjusting her glasses, "As he apparently has to tell scrawny Ravenclaws!"

"Hey...are you talking about you or me?"

Myrtle made an odd swelling noise, as if preparing for an angry tirade. I took that as my cue to go, her following me or not. I could probably lose her if I headed somewhere cheerful.

Sprinting out the door, I took the nearest route I could find that would lead me away from a ranting ghost, or a possible meeting with a furious caretaker.

I ended up heading absent-mindedly towards the hospital wing, my mind reeling with what I had heard.

Malfoy had been crying? _Seriously?_ That was hardly compatible with my brain to envision the bully who made so many people's lives miserable to be weeping to a ghost in an abandoned bathroom. It was almost comical.

I was interrupted from my pensive state by catching sight of Harry and Hermione, standing outside the doors to the hospital wing, which were closed tightly as if daring a visitor to enter. I suspected they had been turfed out. Madame Pomfrey was not a person to be messed with. I would have walked past, but there was something about their rather anxious faces that drove me to speak.

"Hey guys," I said brightly, "Why the long faces?"

Harry exchanged a worried look with Hermione, making me think that I had been a little insensitive. I slowed my pace, an unexplained stab of trepidation in my heart.

"Ron got poisoned," He finally said, his shoulders hunching as he leant against the wall, "Madame Pomfrey say he'll be fine, but still."

"Poisoned?" I gasped, totally taken aback, "Wh..how?"

"It was in Slughorn's office," Harry said slowly, and I got the inkling he wasn't going to tell me much more, "But I think it was Ma- well... it I guess it was an accident."

Hermione gave an odd sort of squeak, covering half her face with the ends of her scarf. Harry shot her an awkward look before patting her on the back.

"What, he drank from something?" Yes, I was being nosy. But this was big news.

"Yes." Harry said a trifle brusquely, and I knew I not really welcome in this conversation any more.

"Well... give Ron a get well message from me." I finally said with a preoccupied sigh, shoving my hands in the pockets in my robes as I made for the long way back to Ravenclaw tower (avoiding Filch and the massive pile of abandoned dungbombs, of course).

Although there was the fact that Harry had said it was an accident, the news that Ron had been poisoned had shaken me a little,

"What is happening this year?" I exclaimed in an undertone to myself, "How can Dumbledore let this happen?" Despite myself, I felt a jolt of anger, directed at this particular moment to our headmaster. I knew it was a little harsh, but I felt then for a second that it was his fault as to why Hogwarts seemed to be different this year, as if a favourite and familiar song was suddenly being sung badly. Admittedly, it was nowhere near as bad as last year, with that atrocious hag from the ministry forcing everyone to carve messages into their own skin, but there was something dark about the castle; like a permanent raincloud darkening the sky above our heads. I didn't like it one bit, and Ron being poisoned, although apparently accidental, seemed to add to the growing list of everything that was going wrong this year, what with Katie being cursed, and Malfoy...

Malfoy.

I don't know why I dragged all the events as to being linked, but it seemed logical. As logical as it had been in tying Malfoy to the disappearance of the ghosts. And it had been right, hadn't it? What if Malfoy was somehow tied to what had happened to Katie? Or poisoning Ron? Hadn't Harry been about to say something, something that started with 'ma'?

Or perhaps Ron was right and we were simply caught up in an absurd, anti-Malfoy conspiracy that made little sense.

Hypothetically, if Malfoy had been behind it, what would he stand to gain from killing Ron? I shuddered at the mere thought of it. And again, Harry had said it had been an _accident_, so maybe Malfoy had another target? But that was ridiculous. Malfoy trying to _kill_ someone? This was the boy who had run screaming from Dementors and enchanted fireworks. I snorted. How could he be capable of murder?

_Sounds like you're being made to do it to me._

I was reading too much into this, there was no way I was right with any of these suspicions; it was only going to make trouble that was unnecessary. Besides, hadn't I looked into Malfoy's grey eyes and promised him not to snoop anymore? I liked to think that I, Meg Forester, actually kept my promises. Even if I made them to a desperate, malicious and irritating Slytherin.

"Figures." I snorted under my breath.

"Talking to yourself, Forester? That explains the craziness you emit, I guess."

I jumped wildly, and as I focused in on Malfoy walking past, I felt myself growing guiltily embarrassed. How much had I thought about him this evening? What with everything about him Myrtle had divulged and I had just theorised, there was a wonder he didn't read the accusations pouring off my brain.

"No," I said in a voice that sounded like it was coming from miles off. Come on brain, think of something funny. "I was talking to nargles." Lame. But Luna's face pictured in my mind as she eagerly told me quite earnestly of the real creatures that steal your shoes put a smile back on my face.

"Narg...what?" Malfoy was obviously thrown off by this, leaving me a little more time to raise a shield around my suspicions. _He's not trying to kill anyone, just forget about it._

"Nargles." I said patiently, "They like to eat Slytherins."

"You're hilarious, Forester." His sarcasm was heavier than a blue whale.

"I know, right?" I said, forcing my tone into a happy one, "If you were still in that stupid Inkytorial Squid from last year -or whatever the hell it was called- you could give me house points for my hilarity."

"The Inquisitorial Squad." He corrected me as we headed towards the clock tower in a perfect loop that would take us past the scene of the dungbomb crime.

"That was a fun year," I continued extremely insincerely, "I think my favourite part was watching Fred and George stuff Montague in a Vanishing Cabinet."

For some reason, Malfoy flinched slightly at my words, as if I had just said something distasteful that reminded him of something. I hadn't realised he and Montague and been that close.

"It's alright," I snorted, "He turned up eventually, didn't he?"

He didn't reply, which gave me further time to shove my suspicions aside. I was being silly. I was tired and very, very wrong.

Before I could say anything else as Malfoy evidently wasn't going to, a small first year scuttled past; I swear not even reaching up to my elbow. To my surprise, Malfoy totally ignored her.

"Shouldn't you have yelled at her for being out so late?" I sniggered, jabbing the prefect's badge on his chest, "I would have thought there was no way you'd miss that opportunity."

"I don't talk to first years," He said, a trifle maliciously, "I like to use my breath for better things than talking to midgets."

"You're really not very pleasant, are you?" I mused, shouldering my bag further onto my shoulder.

"You're only just guessing?" I caught the dry humour in his voice, as if he were speaking ironically. I failed to get the apparent joke.

"Hah, no. Even when we were eleven you were unbearable."

"Now that I know you better I'm rather glad."

"But then that time by the boathouse-"

"Will you stop bringing that up?" He snapped, rounding on me. I was left slightly flabbergasted at the sudden change in his joking attitude and had little in the way of response.

I let him walk on a little before my temper flared into place,

"No, actually," I said furiously, marching towards him, "I can bring up whatever I like, you've been nothing but horrible ever since I've known you, Draco, and this year? This year you've just been plain _weird._ You get angry and then ever ruder than normal, and then act like it's _my_ fault for poking my nose in your business!"

"When did that happen?" Malfoy shot scathingly, folding his arms defensively,

"When you said I was wrong for suddenly talking to you after you called me a mudblood loser." I hissed sourly, pulling the first example I could out of my head.

"I didn't call you that," I observed the sneer twisting his lips, and had the deep rooted impulse to slap it off, "It was Pan-"

"Oh, well that's ok then!" I ignored the steadily increasing shrillness in my voice, "We can just forget that you agreed with her, so long as you didn't voice it!" A small silence followed that outburst, and I cringed slightly as I heard my voice echo down the corridors somewhat. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, looking confused.

"Are you ok?"

"What do you think?" I growled, "You're seriously asking that question? Do I _look_ in a good mood to you?"

Malfoy actually seemed a little worried now. I noticed he had backed off a step.

"No," He finally said, trying to smirk, "You look like you're going to eat me."

"You don't get it, do you?" And as I said that, I realised that _I _ didn't get it either. Why was I so angry? Sure, he had been his normal, stupid self and I wanted an apology, but was that really the reason I was so worked up? I had to say that no matter how hard I had tried to push it to the back of my mind, the terrible thought that Malfoy might be up to something far darker than I imagined was frightening me.

"No I don't!" He said in frustration, "I'm a little freaked out by your sudden craziness, to be honest."

"Well, I wouldn't want that," I snapped, too late in getting a hold of what came slipping from my mouth, "You'll just go sobbing to Moaning Myrtle!"

He looked at me for roughly three long seconds, the colour draining from his already pale face. I felt similarly panicked as well. So much for great secret-keeping skills.

"What?" He finally said, it what I figured was an extremely low and dangerous tone. I blinked. I was really _not_ up for an argument tonight.

"I gotta go."

His arm shot out and caught mine, his face furious,

"Where did you hear that?" He asked, the sneer lines on his face creasing in what could only be called a snarl.

Before I could answer, the shuffling of footsteps broke through our argument. Malfoy released me quick as a lightning bolt, stepping a foot backwards just as Filch shambled round the corner; a lantern providing far too much light to his features for my taste.

I suddenly realised I was breathing extremely heavily, like I had just been swimming for far too long.

"What's going on here?" Filch wheezed, leering at the pair of us, "Why aren't you in your common rooms like the rest of your nasty friends? Particularly when there's been a massive dungbomb explosion down the corridor!"

"That wasn't us," I said in the calmest voice I could manage. My hands were curled into tight fists by my side, "And I was just leaving." Despite his lack of friendliness, Filch's arrival had been rather fortunate. Malfoy would not be weaselling an argument out of me tonight.

"Forester-" Malfoy began, his tone still harsh and low in a manner that showed me he was not going to forget my little slip up. Maybe I should dedicate my time to memory loss spells.

"Leave me alone." I hissed under my breath, not quite daring to meet his eye.

I left the pair of them without another word, my feet blurring as I hurried towards the Grand Staircase once more.

When I finally got into bed, my hands shaking with anger still, I didn't sleep until the thin light of dawn was breaking on the horizon.


	20. Chapter 20

**Anyone else getting seriously excited for Pottermore? I have the strangest feeling that Dobby is hoarding my welcome letter though...**

**Enjoy the next chapter! :D**

**Wherein I endanger Britain and get confused by a pair of lips**

My mind was whirling so angrily the next morning that it was a wonder that no one in the girls in the dormitory questioned my thumping about as I kicked my case and ripped my hangings around my bed back (I accidentally broke them, which was slightly embarrassing). They probably merely thought I was displaying the signs of madness I had when I had jinxed Pansy's hair off. At least that had given vent to my anger. The argument with Malfoy had simply caused it, and had had me lying awake until daybreak; unable to shut my mind off.

I had really lost it with him; so much so that I had let that little fact about Myrtle slip. Why couldn't I have watched my tongue? The anger inside of me was still there, and I was a little concerned over its prominence just now.

"Good morning." Antony said happily, rising from the chairs clustered by the fire to greet me; his hair tousled from his pillow still.

"Not really, no." I said grumpily, forcing back any smile threatening to break my face as he clapped his hands to his face in mock horror.

"How terrible," He grinned to Terry who had just emerged from the boys' staircase, yawning heavily, "Our Meg seems to be in a terrible mood today."

"Watch out Britain," Was Terry's input.

Antony made the smallest of noises, that could have been a laugh, but then turned into a stifled croak as I glowered at him.

"I'm not _that_ bad." I finally said huffily, marching from the common room before either of them could answer. I figured it was probably for the best.

The hall was not as crowded as it was during the week; many students seemed to be getting a well earned lie in. It seemed I was up earlier than I expected. That simply set me in a fouler mood. I could have had a better night's sleep.

A few Hufflepuffs barged past us as we headed for the Ravenclaw table, apparently missing the evil glare I threw them. Antony obviously saw it, for he suddenly couldn't stop sniggering.

"How many chocolate frog cards do you have?" Zacharias Smith was saying loudly to one of his companions, as they walked towards their table, oblivious to the mild uproar they had created. Smith was raising an eyebrow at his friend that showed he evidently thought he was much more important, "I have a hundred and eighty-seven."

"Pig." I muttered under my breath.

It turned out I wasn't particularly in the mood for my fried egg, which sat flashing the happy colours of bright orange and white from its perch on a slice of toast. I left whilst Terry and Antony were shovelling second helpings of tomatoes and sausages into their mouths with the pretence of meeting Mulciber.

I was scowling at the ground so much that I didn't see Malfoy slip out from behind the golden statue of the Architect of Hogwarts, his usual drawl and swagger completely vanished ne as he grabbed me roughly and practically threw me against the wall; pinning me there. I was a little peeved that only a few students looked placidly surprised at this maltreatment.

"OW!" I exclaimed, rather shocked, trying to release myself, "Get off!"

"What did she tell you?" He asked furiously, his tones hoarse and strained. His forehead crumpled, as if he were torn between being livid, and being completely desperate to know what I knew. I glowered at him, the wall pressing uncomfortably into my back. I could only assume he meant Moaning Myrtle.

"She told me about how you're-" I cut myself off as I realised that my voice had come out a little louder than I had intended. A few people were looking curiously in our direction, "She told me you're crying and forming a long-lasting friendship with her," I finally said in a rough whisper, my hands balled into fists as I seethed with fury, "Can I go now?"

"If you...tell anyone-"

"For heaven's _sake_, Malfoy!" I snapped, "I think we've established that you can't hold your threats, and that I am certainly _not_ going to tell anyone. Who the hell would care? Now let go of me before I hit you right in th-"

"What's going on here?"

Malfoy released me instantly as Professor Mcgongall appeared by our side, one thin eyebrow raised in deep suspicion,

"Nothing, professor." I said cheerfully, pushing my simmering anger down, "We're just sorting out a mild disagreement."

She evidently didn't believe us, and I doubt there would have been anyone who did, as both mine and Malfoy's faces were contorted with rage, our fists clenched angrily and shoulders hunched with the full style of people who were undeniably fighting. Regardless, it gave me the opening to slip away before Malfoy could corner me again.

My head started reeling in that horrible fashion once again as I headed randomly out into the outside courtyard; the cold fresh air hitting my face with something close to relief. I couldn't understand how much Malfoy and I's relationship had warped and changed this year. I just wanted to go back to how it had been, before my stupid curiosity had driven me to opening that wretched letter, when all our exchanges had been a swapping of insults that I was fairly sure none of us really meant. At least I hoped not.

I ran my hands through my hair irately. I suppose I had to appreciate (however grudgingly) how Malfoy must be feeling right now. Sure, if it were me, I would feel vulnerable and angry that somebody knew I had been bawling my eyes out to a ghost. And definitely mortified. But at the same time I felt peculiarly hurt at his attitude just now. Hadn't I shown Malfoy that I wasn't the kind of person who would spread things about? Or maybe he was just livid that I had found out. I suppose enough of his secrets had accidentally been stumbled on by me these past few months.

I was heading across the viaduct, and, in no mood to head anywhere particularly quickly, I hopped up onto one of the thick walls that stopped me tumbling to my death in the rocky crag spiralling down to the lake below.

I sat cross legged, rubbing my hands together for warmth, looking up at the clear blue sky in an attempt to shift my black mood.

I think that a small part of me had been wondering since yesterday that maybe what Malfoy was up to was more serious than I had first thought. I suppose I had not really taken this seriously, despite all the warnings that had been shoved under my nose since I read his post. I guess from now on I had to consider the serious possibility that I was barely skimming the tip of the iceberg. But that scared me slightly. It was so easy to listen to Malfoy and simply back off, leaving him to this weird, almost desperate sorrow that had swathed his drawling nature.

I let out a huge sigh, causing a few passing third years to look at me weirdly. I shot them a dangerous look, and they scuttled away rather quickly.

I knew that the thing that upset me most about what Malfoy was up to (and it was completely selfish) was that his actions were ruining the Hogwarts that I had grown to love through the first few years I had spent here. Granted, the past two years had been rather a disaster, but that had done nothing but increase my desperation for things to go back to the perfect normality and expectations I had once experienced here. Malfoy ceasing his bullying to cry to a ghost and throw me against walls was not listed under this normality.

I debated slowly about telling somebody my suspicions- even though I wasn't particularly sure what they were- but I dismissed it. I had little evidence, and no idea as to what he was up to. And there was very little possibility that I was going to find out.

The only way out of this strange repetitive spiral of events in my mind was to confront Malfoy himself; preferably when there were witnesses nearby so that I couldn't be thrown against a wall again. I rubbed my back ruefully as Sampson peeked out my bag; emitting a shriek of joy and plummeting into the air; whirling down around the viaduct like some hyper flying pygmy puff. I watched him idly, a small smile on my face, cheered by the new plan of action.

Eventually, I felt up for facing people again, so I leapt off the wall, scooping up Sampson on the way before his dive-bombing went extremely wrong.

I spent the day playing gobstones with Terry in the common room; Antony scribbling down homework beside us. When I realised this was a little out of character and confronted Terry about his lack of working, he shrugged and said he'd already finished all of his. I repressed the feeling of shame that I had barely written the title to any of my essays with little, well-practiced difficulty.

I remembered I was meeting Mulciber in the Entrance Hall for Slughorn's party roughly ten minutes before I was supposed to be there. Cutting out the five minutes I had to leave to run down there, I was rather impressed that I had managed to fling on the dress I wore to the Christmas party and make my hair look reasonably presentable in the space of five minutes.

Whilst hurtling down the Grand Staircase; rather liking the swishing noise my dress made as the fabric brushed together, I nearly ran straight into Malfoy, who was heading up a staircase in the process of swinging round to face the seventh floor. His face paled considerably, and his mouth set in a line that showed me he would have rather have run into the giant squid right now. That, which would once have amused me, now caused to grab his arm; and none too gently. My back did still hurt.

"I don't know what you think I'm going to do with everything I know," I grated, squeezing my fingers against the soft fabric of his jumper, "But I'm not going to give it to the nearest person for popularity points. I would have thought you knew me well enough after all these years, to know I wouldn't do that."

"I forgot how well we knew one another after all the many years we spent bonding," He snapped back instantly, and I swallowed a snigger at this, "And I don't remember begging you not to tell anyone, either."

"Oh, well in that case." I shot, rolling my eyes, "I'll be going then," I released my hold on him and leapt down the step he was standing on, not getting much further until his voice made me stop,

"Forester-"

I turned to him, but it seemed he didn't have much else to say. His face was set in the guarded manner I had come to familiarise myself with this term, and his eyes were fixed firmly on my face; as if worried or fretful. It made me feel like he was seeing me as a firework, about to explode noisily at any given moment. It was a little annoying, but I couldn't quite bring myself to look away from his gaze; drinking in the exact colour of his irises, and wondering idly if I should just leave.

I finally raised my eyebrows in a questioning manner, and he stepped away with a small scowl as if he were thinking of something dark, the peculiar staring match broken either way.

"I'll see you in Potions," I finally uttered in an oddly husky whisper, backing away and feeling particularly thrilled I didn't fall down the stairs.

For some reason, I felt an odd prickle of guilt as I met Mulciber in the Entrance Hall; probably due to the fact that I had made myself late by trying to make someone he disliked trust me. I had felt a little cautious about greeting him after him kissing me on the cheek earlier, but we made our way to the sixth floor without awkward silences, which was quite something for me, really.

Slughorn hadn't gone quite as crazy with decorations as he had at Christmas, so walking in there, I felt like I had been swallowed by a very small green whale, instead of a giant one like the last time I had stepped into his study. I also felt immediately out of place. I recognised the majority of the 'Slug Club' as Slytherins or Gryffindors; spying Zabini, two Slytherin girls I didn't know, Mclaggen (just wonderful) and, to my relief; Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Not really on speaking terms with any of them, I found myself almost wishing for Malfoy to have made it into Slughorn's good books. Almost.

"Come in, come in!" Slughorn exclaimed jovially, ushering Mulciber and I in. For some reason, the two Slytherin girls exchanged glances at my appearance, and made no attempt at hiding their smirks. I scowled.

"I believe we all know each other?" Slughorn was saying happily, "Blaise, Flora, Hestia, Cormac, and of course Harry..."

I zoned out a little, and as Slughorn led us to a round table near the fireplace, I flicked Mulciber a raised eyebrow; one that I was surprised to see returned. Maybe this would be more fun than I had thought.

After a few glasses of butterbeer and a plate of food (that was mercifully potato-less) later I began to perk up a bit. I had learnt that having a mouthful of food kept you out the firing line of Slughorn's questions, which always made me feel all the more that I should not currently be sitting next to Harry Potter. Luckily, Slughorn's attention was devoted to either Harry or Cormac. Cormac because he was too self-absorbed to let Harry have all the attention for too long.

"As I was saying to Barnie the other day," Slughorn was telling Mclaggen, as he waved his wand and plates of profiteroles appeared before us; which I dived into with undisguised enthusiasm (the two Slytherin girls gave me a sneer), "That's Barnabus Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet," He added as a side note for the rest of us before turning back to Mclaggen, "It's not what the newspaper reports, but _how._.."

I tuned out again, my focus solely on the chocolate sauce and cream filled pastry. By my side, I heard Mulciber making small, disapproving noises under his breath in the direction of Slughorn and Mcglaggen. I hid my smile to the best of my ability.

I was chewing a large amount of profiterole when I realised Slughorn was now addressing me.

"So what about you, Miss Forester?" I mentally cursed that my food chewing method had failed, and swallowed my profiterole courageously.

"Uh...What about me, sir?"

"I hear that you were responsible for a large explosion of dungbombs in the castle last night! Quite the challenge to clean up, Mr Filch tells me." Slughorn leant back in his chair as eyes flicked to me, as if waiting to hear a very good story.

I dropped my spoon, completely surprised. I hadn't had Filch down as one to gossip.

"Oh," I said stupidly, wondering whether denying it would make Slughorn chuck me out for not living up to my 'infamous' reputation.

But luckily Slughorn started chuckling loudly before I could get another word in.

"You know, Gwenog Jones used to be quite the troublemaker in her day," He informed the table, "You know her as the captain of the Holyhead Harpies, of course. I don't suppose you're a keen flyer?" He asked with sudden enthusiasm, leaving me totally nonplussed.

"She's not." Zabini cut in, obviously looking sour at Slughorn's liking of a non-Slytherin, "She nearly fell off her broom trying to catch the Quaffle."

"As opposed to the talent you display when you play," I shot back as Slughorn brandished his wand; causing the jug full of butterbeer to perform its round of the emotying glasses once again, "You're too concerned for the state of your face."

"Now, now, ladies and gentlemen," Slughorn chortled, "Don't make me let Miss Weasley sort you out with that excellent bat hex of hers,"

Ginny blushed slightly, but I saw the steely glint in her eyes as she fixed her gaze on Blaise. He did his best to look unimpressed.

"And you don't have any other talents outside that of rule breaking?" Slughorn seemed persistent in his quest to find something I was good at. The best of luck to him.

"Uh..."

"She's good at losing house points," One of the Slytherin girls butted in, sending me a nasty look. I wondered idly if Pansy had been spreading the news of who exactly gave her such a drastic haircut, "I heard she lost fifty points because she told Professor Snape to wash his hair."

"Well, no, actually I didn't," I said huffily, feeling this accusation was hideously misplaced, "I chickened ou-"

"And last year she bewitched the suits of armour on the sixth floor to chase any of the Inquisitorial Squad-" The other girl added, sending me a spiteful look as she did so.

"No, I didn't," I said, growing impatient, "It was just so that they would chase Malfo-"

"I heard you replaced Marcus Flint's Quidditch shoes in the third year with ones that shrunk his feet." Mulciber said in his quiet voice, actually looking mildly impressed. I didn't bother contesting that one. It was unfortunately true.

"Dear, dear," Slughorn said dramatically, looking thoroughly bemused, "Did I tell you about the time, Cormac, when your uncle and I decided it would be a jolly good laugh to leave a nose-biting teacup in old Eldred Warple's desk?"

"Yeah, I remember that," Cormac said, looking pleased with himself, "That was a good story, that was..."

"Well that wasn't totally unbearable," I said conversationally to Mulciber as Slughorn's office door closed behind us around an hour later. He flashed me a look with a faint glitter in his eyes that told me he fully disagreed,

"Fine," I relented, brushing against his shoulder as we ambled towards the Grand Staircase, "It was total torture from start to finish. If Mclaggen opens his mouth one more time in front of me I'll have to start handing out shrinking shoes again."

"That's more accurate," Mulciber said with approval, opening a door for me. A suit of armour standing guard nearby wolf whistled. I slammed its visor down before walking out into the corridor.

The candles had been lit; illuminating the flagstones in a soft orange light. I was pleasantly full of profiteroles and butterbeer, and as we reached the Grand Staircase I felt the thrum of contentment in my chest, not marred at all when Mulciber slid his hand around mine.

A few ghosts were spiralling up at the top of the staircases; their mutterings carrying down to us; the soft creaking of stairs in motion flowing over the snores of the paintings. I gave a small smile at the familiar sight, and turned back to Mulciber; not quite catching the intentional look in his eyes,

"I'll see you on Monday, I guess," I smiled absent-mindedly, fighting back a yawn. I suddenly realised that he hadn't let go of my hand.

"Goodnight, Meg." He said in his low, husky voice; and I noted how close his face was to mine right now.

The small realisation hit me that he was going to kiss me, and I felt an odd surge of dull panic spread through me like a hot flame. As if waiting for this moment, a thousand questions and doubts burst forth to light my mind, and I felt myself freeze to the spot as his lips pressed against mine. In roughly five seconds, my brain established several things that it never could have done in normal circumstances. Which was really rather annoying. I could have done with this much quick thinking in Potion's class.

His lips were gentle; and for a moment, I almost liked his touch. But then Michael's words bit sharply into my mind again. _Because you fancy him._ I recalled how I felt as Mulciber asked me to Slughorn's party for the first time; with my heart as indifferent as the grey sky above me.

Then, unbidden, and really fairly irritating, the flash of the ghosts far above me made me think of Malfoy.

And that distracted me from any romantic thought I may have mustered.

"Geroff!"

I ignored how like a gnome that sounded as I wriggled from his grasp, breathing heavily. I cringed as I saw Mulciber's wounded expression.

"I'm really sorry," I tried again, "But I need to go. I'll...uh...see you later."

I had never run up the stairs so fast in all my time at Hogwarts. Except for perhaps the time when I had tripped Crabbe up and he had been really _really _cross. But I think, that this time, I was trying to run away from the tangled knot of feelings in my chest that I couldn't quite place.

As I dived into bed; yanking the covers up to press against my face and stared at the soft wool of the fabric, I had narrowed the feelings down to three key things. Guilt at having caused the injured look in Mulciber's eyes; dread at seeing him again, and mild embarrassment that the situation had played out like that.

And oddly, regret hadn't placed there at all.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks for the lovely reviews guys, and I wanted to say an extra huge thank you to Lixsabell for leaving me such a lovely comment- it seriously made my day! I hope you like the new chapter :D**

**Wherein I use bunny philosophy and my diaphragm rebels against me**

The topic that Mulciber had kissed me and I had reacted like a hyperactive gnome didn't cross my lips for the rest of the weekend, or even on Monday morning when Terry, Antony and I occupied our normal place in the Great Hall; under a sky that was looking promisingly blue.

Terry had been shooting me glances all of Sunday when I seemed a little distant and jumpy, but now he and Antony had settled into a healthy debate as to what the password for a portrait's shortcut in the Grand Staircase could be. I had left them to it; feeling a little bit sorry for myself as I watched the door for Mulciber to enter.

"He speaks so cryptically," Antony grumbled, pouring a generous amount of tea into his cup, and sending a warm smile to Padma who had just sat down opposite him,

"What are we talking about?" She asked, stealing the teapot from him for herself.

"The secret passageway behind the portrait of Giffard Abbot."

"Giffard Abbot?" I asked cautiously, tuning in at this, "Is that the guy with the stupid red hat?"

"Yeah." Terry answered, looking at me questioningly.

"I can't use that portrait." I sniggered.

"Why not?"

"No idea," I shrugged with my most innocent face, "We did have a minor disagreement about the stupidity of his password, but that's all in the past now."

"You worked out the password?" Terry asked, slightly weakly. I was distracted from any answer by the dark head of Mulciber entering the hall.

"Hide me!" I squealed, and immediately slid down under the bench, landing a trifle painfully as I hit the ground.

"Uh...what are you doing?" Terry's voice was half exasperated, half amused.

"Evan just walked in right?" I called upwards through the forest of legs,

"Oh. Yeah he did,"

"What's going on with you two?" Antony's voice sounded extremely confused as it drifted down to my ears.

"He tried to kiss me Saturday night. And I did what I do best and freaked out." I mumbled, curling my knees up to my chin, "I'm _still_ freaking out now, really."

"Poor boy," Antony sniggered, "He's looking over here now, actually."

"Right," I muttered to myself, "I'll be right back." And, like a trepid explorer, I shuffled on my stomach along the floor, trying to avoid freaking people out by avoiding contact with feet. When I realised that in all my clever genius I was actually moving closer to Mulciber, I wriggled out from under the table, and sprinted to the Gryffindor table, probably looking exceptionally weird whilst I did it; owing to the fact that my upper half was bent so as to avoid being my full height.

I crashed down to the floor again near a group of people, too late realising I actually knew them and they would now see just how strange I was.

"Meg?" Ron asked a little blankly,

"You're better! That's brilliant!" I grinned foolishly, "And don't mind me, Just hiding from Ev- ah, Mulciber,"

"You're not far off being Won Won then," Harry put in, sniggering, and scooping Cheery-Owls into him mouth,

"Nose out Harry." Ron shot at him, tugging the hood of Harry's robe over his head. I ignored their banter, peering up through their shoulders as Mulciber headed towards the Slytherin table, and I felt a horrible plunge of guilt as he looked pretty dejected as he sat down. My eyes drifted along to Malfoy, who was sitting alone a few spaces along from the rest of his once-friends, and I frowned heavily. I assumed that he had forgiven me for finding out about Myrtle, as he hadn't been throwing me against any furniture or walls lately. Something reminded me of what Ron had said about Harry sharing my suspicions whilst we were pickling rat brains. Maybe I should just ask him. In a strictly indifferent manner, of course. No need to spread the fact that I knew Malfoy and Myrtle were best friends this year.

"Hey, you always know things you shouldn't, Harry," I said brightly, turning on him and his friends, working hard to keep my face casual, "Do you reckon Malfoy's up to something this year?"

Harry leapt to his feet, and the way he was looking meant he either was about to dance, or hug me.

"I told you so!" He practically shouted at Ron and Hermione, pointing at me as if I were presenting him with rock hard evidence to his theories.

"Harry, please," Hermione muttered, "People are looking."

"Conspiracy," Ron was muttering; his ears a little pink.

"It's all very well to keep accusing Malfoy of something, Harry," Hermione said, sending him a disapproving look that belonged on Terry's face in my opinion, "But do you actually have any proof, Meg?"

"Wait, you're saying you guys don't?" I asked, my heart sinking slightly,

"Only him gloating to his friends 'bout a task he was given," Harry said darkly, who had reached across for his bowl and was once again shovelling cereal into his mouth,

"Well, that's not bad," I mused, slightly disappointed that I had already known that, "And he's been very loner-ish this year."

"Maybe his friends just realised what a git he was," Ron shrugged, echoing an earlier observation of mine.

"He keeps vanishing of the ma...uh-I mean... he's sometimes not around for a while too," For some reason Harry flushed slightly as he spoke, and Hermione shot him a dark look. Totally oblivious to this, I turned his words over in my mind.

"And you're sure he's not in his common room?"

"Yeah."

Strange, I pondered, looking over to the Slytherin table again. I had noticed that he was alone a lot, but going off to do things in secret? Maybe stalking him wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Almost as if he could feel my eyes on him, Malfoy looked up; catching my gaze. For some reason, I felt my face flare suddenly, and I hastily turned around before Malfoy could see I was blushing. I mentally slapped myself.

I got back to my place at the Ravenclaw table just as people started to head towards their lessons. Knowing this meant Potions with both Malfoy and Mulciber, I downed half a jug of coffee in roughly seven seconds to take the edge of my nerves. I wish I could say it worked. Instead, it made me feel rather queasy.

"So you and Mulciber work out your relationship difficulties like normal people then?" Terry asked as he clambered to his feet. I shot him a look, and saw his straight face was wavering slightly.

"You're hilarious." I commented, swinging my legs out from under the bench and springing to my feet, "But I don't think we're a normal relationship anyway. At least, we can't be if I don't want to kiss him."

"Why on earth did you agree to going out with him then?" Terry said with minor exasperation as we began to move with the crowd towards the double doors.

"It was more an alarmed bunny in the headlights move," I sighed, "And a failed act of revenge."

"Against who?"

"Uh...nobody." I stammered, realising I had just fallen into alarmed bunny headlights mode once more. Me and my stupid tongue.

The students filing out into the hall seemed tired after a weekend of relaxing; shadows under their eyes as they muttered darkly about upcoming lessons. I was personally buzzing a little from the large cup of coffee I had just drunk, so it was a rather upbeat version of myself that was in the queue for Snape's classroom a few minutes later.

It seemed we had arrived after a small disagreement between a cluster of Slytherins and a group of Gryffindors. As Pansy stepped back with a smirk, I took it to mean she had one a verbal match with somebody, and I was idly reminded of the time when a jinx made for Malfoy by Harry had rebounded onto Goyle on the nose; causing ugly boils to erupt there. Maybe it would have done Malfoy some good if it had hit him. Maybe I should amend that sometime.

Snape shoving open the door broke up my fond reminiscing, and I almost skipped into the classroom, my eyes darting around the room to take in all the pickled ingredients and arrays of weakly bound books.

"Stop skipping," Terry muttered, trying not to laugh, "Potions is bad, remember?"

"I'm trying to make it better," I muttered back, my voice carrying a little more than I had intended. Snape shot me a dirty look, "What else do I have to go on?"

"You could try cooking a ferret." Terry said in a voice so quiet there could be no chance Snape would hear.

That comment made me work very hard not to emit a loud series of giggles. It was bad enough that coffee was heightening my sense of amusement, but jokes from Terry was certainly not helping me become serious.

In fact, Terry had made me laugh too much.

As the class settled down and Snape began to issue a list of instructions for the lesson, I let out a loud hiccup.

The next time one escaped my mouth no matter how long I held my breath, I simply received a withering look from Snape.

The fourth time, however, he kind of lost his patience.

"Miss Forester, are you quite incapable of sitting quietly throughout a single lesson?"

Pansy let out a high pitched giggle, which pierced the classroom far more effectively than any of my hiccups had done.

Me, thinking this comment was rather unfair, piped up in between involuntarily filling the classroom with a series of high pitched hiccups.

"I can't-hic-help it."

"No doubt." Snape said in his slow voice, raising an eyebrow, "Five points from Ravenclaw for pointless interruptions."

"What!" I squeaked, "I hiccupped! How is that disruptive?"

"I certainly can't concentrate, sir," Pansy said in a greasy voice, and I wondered how she had taken over Malfoy's role of getting me into trouble.

"Keep talking and I'll give you a reason not to concentrate," I muttered under my breath. Malfoy shot me an amused look.

It took five more loud hiccups before Snape gave me the antidote. I was half along the lines of thinking he was hoping I would choke to death.

"We shall continue our work on the Elixir to Induce Euphoria," Snape said, and then shot me a nasty smirk, "A shame, as perhaps the Hiccoughing Solution might have been more beneficial for today's class."

"Git," I whispered in an undertone to Terry as I dug around in the store cupboard later, "He acts as if he's never encountered hiccups before."

"Well, his lessons are never much of a recipe for hilarity." Terry argued lightly, handing me a cluster of the ingredients we were supposed to be using. I had long ago given up on attempts to refuse his help. Life tended to be much simpler when he assisted me.

Back at my desk, I did my best to ignore that Mulciber was working only a few feet away. I had felt his gaze on me once or twice; but he seemed as determined as I was not to break the silence. The nasty feeling this gave my stomach was oddly reflective to the mushy curdle of potion in the bottom of my cauldron.

"What was with the lack of stupid faces in the hall earlier, Forester?" I looked up as Malfoy returned to his normal place next to me; depositing a bunch of ingredients at his desk; something akin to a sneer on his face as he began twirling a silver ring around his index finger. No doubt it was the Slytherin crest or something tacky of the same variety.

"Uh... I've run out of faces to pull at you." I said, momentarily lost for words. It was typical that the single time any manner of mockery had failed me, he had noticed.

"Thank God for that. For you, anyway. If the wind had changed you would have been permanently ugly."

"Meaning I'm stunning in other circumstances?" I said with a faint flutter of my eyelashes. I had almost been hoping to make him blush again –to even the score a bit- but he merely sent me a look to show he wasn't impressed. Sticking my bottom lip out in a pathetic mock attempt to look upset, I turned back to my cauldron.

It turned out there was little I could do to salvage my potion, even with Terry's helping hand. Snape, seeming to be on the lookout to take a few things out on non-Slytherins today, did several laps of the classroom before announcing very loudly that the only worst potion maker he knew aside from me had been Archibald Alderton (a wizard who had made it to the chocolate frog cards for blowing up his village whilst making a cake.) I made matters worse and lost a few more house points by pointing out he was, in theory, _cooking,_ not potion making. All the while I felt Mulciber's eyes on me, and I felt fairly certain if I hadn't drunk that coffee I would have been close to tears by this point.

Even caffeine couldn't make me feel better about accidentally catching Malfoy's cauldron with my elbow; causing the cauldron to clatter to the floor with an extremely loud bang and a fair amount of hissing as his Elixir to Induce Euphoria worked its way through the engraved flagstones; just as the bell went to signify the end of the lesson. Malfoy shot me a pained look from across the classroom, from where he appeared to have been having a discussion with Crabbe and Goyle. I would have argued that leaving it in my care was a stupid idea anyway, but I wasn't quite feeling up to it.

"Stay and help Mr Malfoy clean that up, Miss Forester," Snape said silkily, obviously searching my face for signs of horror and disgust at the prospect. I wondered if I should adopt a thrilled look to make him change his mind. "Class dismissed."

Terry sent me an apologetic look as I waved him away. I didn't know whether to feel good about the fact I was going to miss the start of the next lesson. Spending extra time with Malfoy didn't exactly make me feel that much happier.

"Just what I needed," I grumbled as I studied the mess I had created with a raised eyebrow, "Do you reckon you brewed it right?"

"Of course I did." Malfoy snapped, slamming the cauldron back on the desk with a clang, "Why?"

"I think I need some."

"I thought that this was a ruse for you to avoid talking to Mulciber after the lesson." Malfoy said shrewdly, waving his wand so the spilt potion vanished.

"Not all of us run away from adversary, Malfoy," I said in my most knowledgeable voice, stuffing _Advanced Potion Making_ into my bag,

"Sure. So you were hiding under tables this morning for you health?"

"You seem to be watching me an awful lot, lately," I fumbled for a random sentence to hide the fact I was blushing again, "What's that about? Is there something on my face people have neglected to tell me about?"

"Hand me that jar of Bicorn Horn."

"Please." I finished for him, not missing the attempted change of subject as I passed him the glass jar, "Go on then, what should I say to Mulciber if I can't avoid him?"

"Tell him to stop scowling at everyone," Malfoy muttered, and I looked up at the odd tone in his voice. Was that dislike? My brain shoved in the word envy before I could stop it.

"Well, you're not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, you know," I put in with a faint, half-hearted smile. I looked at his lips quizzically. I wondered if kissing them would be better than kissing Mulciber's. The thought made me turn redder as Malfoy met my eye.

We finished cleaning up the mess in silence, and when I staggered out the classroom a few minutes later; laden with books and a heavy schoolbag, I was a little taken aback to have Malfoy walk next to me. His thoughts were obviously far away or he would have amended this. I spent the next few moments trying to remember what lesson I was walking to.

"Urgh Divination," I suddenly groaned, more to myself than anything as I worked out where I was supposed to be. "Makes me wish I was back in the second year before I stupidly chose it."

"And endure five more years at Hogwarts?" Malfoy snorted scornfully, "No thanks. I can't wait to get out of here next year."

"You're looking forward to leaving?" I asked blankly, wondering how anybody could want to leave this place. The thought was foreign to me; not compatible with my mind at all.

"It's not like this stinking castle is going to get any better." He sneered, and I felt my heart sink slightly; a stab of irritation hitting my chest.

"I hate it when you do that." I mumbled quietly,

"What?"

"Act as if you don't care."

He looked a little taken aback, and I tried to swallow the mild exasperation that had coursed through me at his insulting Hogwarts.

We walked in stony silence, me now a few paces ahead until we reached the sixth floor; heading towards the stairs to the seventh. I was actually considering the worth of attending this lesson, as we were now at least ten minutes late. Thank goodness I didn't have Transfiguration or McGonagall would eat me alive.

The coffee I had drunk was ebbing from my mind at this point, and whilst a lot more grumpy than I had been this morning, my brain still had thoughts that were rampaging around my head so forcefully I had to mutter under my breath in an attempt to straighten them out. I would liked to have blamed the caffeine for seeming insane. But I think after all the recent drama that really didn't belong in my life, I was turning completely insane.

"It doesn't matter," I said in a low undertone, "He probably is just hurt. Just apologise."

"Talking to yourself?"

Malfoy's voice sounded mildly amused, but more derisive than anything else. I gritted my teeth,

"My brain can't handle too many problems." I sighed, running a hand through my hair as we walked past a particularly squeaky suit of armour. It simply reminded me of the one I had shut the visor of before Mulciber had kissed me. Stupid moron, why did he have to do that?

"Evidently." Malfoy was jeering, and I had to say, he had a point.

"Maybe I should cry to a ghost?" Despite myself, I lowered my voice as I turned back to grin at him, "Reckon that would make me feel better?"

The fuming scowl he shot me definitely improved my mood, so as we started to ascend the staircase to Divination, I was feeling much more up for a chat with Malfoy.

"I feel it was a misunderstanding anyway," I said decidedly, running a hand up the cold, iron handrail, "Mulciber being angry with me, I mean. I just need to apologise and it'll be fine."

"Not meaning to sound like I care- because I don't, Forester- but you seem to be apologising to him for everything."

"I had no idea you were so up to date on the happenings in my life, Malfoy," I sniggered, shooting him another smile and being rewarded with a dull blush, "But yeah. That's normally because I keep mucking things up."

"Did you want to kiss him?"

"Well...not particularly-"

"So why should you apologise?"

"I'm not apologising for not kissing him. I'm apologising because I hurt his feelings." I frowned, trying to avoid confusion at this conversation.

"Maybe you should make him apologise for being unable to keep his hands off you." I don't think Malfoy was being particularly sincere about this topic, as when I glanced back at him, a small smirk was twisting his face. I heaved a sigh, fighting a smile myself.

"I am his girlfriend. I think kissing one another is one of the given factors that comes with the title." I pointed out; stubbing the end of my toe on one of the stairs and fighting back a swearword. Malfoy used this opportunity to overtake me; smirk still set in place.

"Why are you going out with him, then?"

"Will everyone stop pointing that out?" I snapped hotly, looking sullenly at the stairs now for inflicting injury, "We're good friends, ok?"

Malfoy didn't say anything to this, but he flicked me a look that suddenly made me feeling incredibly stupid and naive. I realised how lame my reasoning for being Mulciber's girlfriend was. The thought send a cold plunge of dread hit my heart like a stone.

We had finally reached the top of the stairs; and I felt annoyed at my body for the prickle of stitch blooming in my chest. I guess I hadn't been up here since last week. Honestly, I'm sure Hogwarts kept me in shape sometimes.

"I hate being late," I commented, peering into the corridor leading to the classroom to see signs of the rest of the class, "Everyone is going to think we've been snogging in a broom cupboard, or something."

"I like to think I have more taste in those areas," Malfoy said lightly, and I shoved him roughly into the wall; leaving myself to flounce forwards into the classroom, secretly hoping he had really been teasing.

True to her character, Professor Trelawney didn't even notice us enter, as she was busy entering in discussion in hushed tones to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, both of whom were looking awed.

"Well, this is looking as fun as ever," I remarked, sliding into a seat on Terry's table, where he was trying his upmost not to look dead from boredom.

"You cleaned up Malfoy's mess then?" He asked unnecessarily, glancing round to see Draco sink into a chair on the Slytherin table; his usual smirk in place. I had a feeling he had found our parting sally quite amusing.

"Like a house elf. What thrilling topic are we doing today, then?"

"Ah, today, my dear we are interpreting the shadowy, mysterious, strange, odd and elusive veil of _dreams_," Terry said, waggling his fingers and widening his eyes, in such a good imitation of Professor Trelawney that my good mood shuffled meekly back as I buried my face in _Unfogging the Future_ to smother my giggles.

"Cast your minds back to the previous night!" The real Trelawney called out through the thick cloud of incense, "Then turn to page thirty of your textbooks to reveal their true meanings. Do not shy away from details that the mind presents you with!"

"Right," Terry said, heaving a sigh and tossing _The Dream Oracle_ towards me, "You first."

"Fine." I leant back in my chair, trying to concentrate and recall any particulars from last night's sleep, "Well...uh... there was something involving...somebody..."

"Specific." Terry snorted, but I was distracted from finishing my sentence by my eyes lighting of Malfoy again. His eyes were on me, and all trace of amusement was gone. Sometime, I'd wondered if we had reached the point where he just wanted to avoid me at all times; for the things that I knew about him must no doubt make him uneasy. At the same time, I speculated- or more rather, worried- that he was simply still talking to me in the hope that he could keep an eye on me; to watch over the knowledge of him that I had attained.

But sometimes, I was sure that there was something border lining friendship in our relationship. And yet somehow 'friendship' didn't seem the right word to use. It was simply that now and then he seemed to understand problems that I had, and solve them with a blunt, simply worded sentence. Just like now with Mulciber. Sure it had been a rude solution, but in an odd way it made sense.

And lord knows what's happening to the world when Draco Malfoy starts making sense.


	22. Chapter 22

**I wanted to say thank you again for all the great reviews guys! You make my day :') Things are heating up now duh duh duh...**

**Wherein I set fire to the common room and wish hard three times**

BANG.

"I win again!" Antony said cheerfully, scooping up the remnants of the recently detonated Exploding Snap, and repairing them with a wave of his wand.

I scowled, feeling my eyebrows nervously and thankful to find both them and my eyelashes were still present and intact on my face.

"That's such a noisy game," Terry said disapprovingly, lowering his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ to watch as I brushed a small collection of soot from the table.

"The clue is in the name," I informed him, raising my eyebrow slightly- more in an attempt to see if it was working after the cards had exploded in my face, than a necessity in the conversation, "Best out of three, Antony?"

"You're on."

I never found out if I could manage to blow Antony's eyebrows off, for at that moment Padma entered the common room, and within a space of three seconds, Antony had abandoned the game and struck up a conversation with her; leaving me with a half dealt pack of cards, and feeling a little stupid.

"Right." I muttered, looking down at the abandoned cards.

"I'm not filling in for him." Terry snorted, hiding behind the newspaper once more.

"Anything in there?" I asked as lightly as I could manage, as I kept dealing out the cards to play against myself. I had tried not to make a habit of asking what was in the newspaper; I was never in the mood to hear bad news, which I suppose was a somewhat cowardly approach to life. Not that wanting to be happy was a crime, except with He Who Must Not Be Named returned it was a little hard to avoid sad matters for too long.

"A few disappearances," Terry murmured, smoothing out a corner that had become crumpled, "And the usual rubbish about people supposedly seeing You Know Who walk up their front drive."

"Oh." I said, feeling a small rush of relief that nothing too horrible had cropped up, "Have your parents done their weekly 'please come home' letter yet?"

"Not yet." Terry said with a small smile, tossing the paper away, "But the week isn't over yet."

A few months ago, Terry had started receiving letters from his parents, begging him to come home where it was safer. I had thought this hilarious. I mean, where else is safer than Hogwarts? But underneath the humour, there was the worry of what lay outside the castle grounds, and what dark forces would just love to destroy Hogwarts; the building that I loved more than anything.

Unsurprisingly, the thought of Hogwarts under threat led me to the topic of Malfoy. What wouldn't I give to know what he was up to, and why Myrtle had told me he had been crying. It must have been pretty serious.

"Oh, we have to go!" Terry exclaimed, having just looked at his watch. Me, wrenched from my thoughts, jumped; and slammed the card I had been holding down on the table.

The pack exploded, sending up a massive surge of smoke; that burnt the table and the tips of my hair; an orange glow sparking onto the sofa cushions.

"Oh, Meg," Terry scolded in exasperation, as he waved his wand and muttered '_aguamenti!' _so a stream of water hit the sofa; which emitted an angry hiss.

"It was an accident." I said tetchily, ignoring the curious looks a few Ravenclaws were shooting us, "Where are we going anyway?"

"Astromony, remember?" Terry seemed a little frustrated with me at present, so I sent him on ahead; where he grabbed a love struck Antony on the way and hauled him out the common room.

Checking nobody was watching, I swept the remnants of the pack of cards under the settee and dashed up to my dormitory; seizing my bag (Sampson intact. He always liked to sneak into Astromony lessons) and beginning the long walk to the Astromony tower.

It was late evening now; and the candles were flaring in their holders along the many corridors; the portraits muttering disapprovingly as they caught sight of straggling students and hissing at them to get to bed. I had to say the prospect of staring up at the night sky for an hour, and unable to fall asleep was vastly unappealing to me right now, chiefly as I hadn't been sleeping well this week; worrying about things (or in particular, Mulciber, who was still avoiding me).

"I'm going to a lesson." I told Mrs Norris loudly as I caught sight of her on the sixth floor, "As far as I'm aware that's a legitimate reason to be out of bed."

She blinked at me, and didn't move a muscle until I had rounded the corner, a little freaked out.

I was a little tempted, when I reached the seventh floor, to simply turn around and head back to my comfy bed in the Ravenclaw dormitories. It would save me falling asleep in another lesson. My argument to just go was all the more enforced by my bag; which was rapidly feeling heavier and heavier. The stitching at the bottom was becoming dangerously loose; and I was expecting it to break any day now, what with all the exam preparation homework the teachers had been handing us.

"I need to throw this bag away," I groaned, surrendering to let it drag behind me once again as I passed a disused store cupboard. However, I got my leg tangled in it and had to do a weird pirouette to free myself without falling over, probably not far off one of the trolls on the tapestries next to me. I must have been muttering 'I need to throw this bag away' quite a lot, because Sampson woke up at the sound of my voice; blinking his large yellow eyes at me, somehow not disturbed by my less than gentle treatment of where he had been sleeping.

However, I was a little distracted from his small cries of greeting by a large, grating noise to my right. Materialising out of the wall; causing faint clouds of dust to billow around me, was a door.

I was pretty used to Hogwarts' tricks at this point of my life, such as the stairs that had steps that weren't really there and those doors that didn't open and just sung annoyingly at you when you were late for class. But this was definitely something new, and I had to say I was pretty impressed.

Not bothering with caution (years at Hogwarts had told me to investigate and accept the fact I might just run into Peeves or a fire crab no matter how I handled the situation) I grabbed the handle and shoved the heavy door open.

A strange niggling sensation that I had been here before was beginning to tickle my mind, and long before I had opened the door fully, I worked it out.

This was the same room where the DA had met the year before; where me, Terry and Antony had snuck to meet Harry and let him teach us spells (at least, he had tried his best, bless him. I wasn't the best learner). Except now, it wasn't the same room. Lines of well, _rubbish_ was piled everywhere; heaps of used books, mannequins and cages. The room had a musty feel to it, with no sources of sunlight. I felt like I was in a big junkyard; with a maze of used items and mouldy things that would probably never see sunlight again.

I was about to close the door and call it enough discovery for one day on account of the smell when Sampson decided this would be a great place to stretch his little wings. With a small hoot of pleasure, he took off; flying up to the dark rafters stretching far above my head.

"Wonderful." I muttered, debating on what on earth to do now.

I was about to start yelling at Sampson in the hope it might coax him down faster, when I heard a peculiar noise. In amongst all the whirring of broken weather vanes, or odd, seemingly meaningless instruments, I heard the wrenching, uneven breathing of a person crying.

Unsure of whether it was just a portrait crying for the wall it once hung on, I stepped forward cautiously, peering round corners of the maze of disused objects; sneaking past books; dusty, cracked mirrors and the spare wheels of bicycles; getting closer to the sound.

A flash of blond hair made me give a double take.

_No way._

There, leaning against a large, dark wardrobe, Draco Malfoy was crying. And not just crying. He was sobbing his heart out; doubled over as his lean body shook with unshed tears.

This scene was so unreal, so private, that I immediately backed off. Myrtle had told me he had been crying, but seeing something like this was totally different. It was completely pitiable. How could I bring myself to interrupt that, to let him know I'd seen him? He needed someone who gave great, consoling advice, or at the very least wouldn't make an awful joke to try and make things better. And that person certainly wasn't me.

I developed a very strong hatred of wizards who dump stuff when I tripped over a mouldy trunk as I backed away. I had been going so quietly. But, there was always the chance that he hadn't heard.

This thought was ruined slightly when the trunk knocked a tattered umbrella with an eagle as its handle; which gave a violent shriek and toppled over to hit a rotting dummy wearing an intricate tiara; which hit a row of books that battered the ground with a thundering crash.

Ah. He had probably heard that.

I was wondering the worth of simply legging it, but I hesitated in those vital seconds, and before I knew it; Malfoy had looked up. From all the remnants of colour fading from his face, I assumed he had seen me. He seemed as frozen to the spot as I now was; his eyes wide with horror and disbelief.

"I..I-" I was completely and utterly lost for words. For some reason, an apology was ready formed on my lips, which a distant part of my brain found quite amusing after the discussion we had had on Monday. Fast as lightning, Malfoy drew his wand on me, although his lips remained sealed; his jaw gritted.

"Oh," I had finally found my voice at this, and irritation and derision dripped from my voice. "Go on then. Kill me for walking in on you crying."

Malfoy hesitated, his forehead crumpled; his eyes flickering nervously across my face. I glowered back.

The wave of relief I felt as he lowered his wand; his arm falling limp to his side, made me surprised at how anxious I had been that he would actually hex me. Not because it would have hurt, but because I had somehow thought him stronger than that.

"Just...Go away." He hissed, his voice cracking slightly; his hand twitching as if he wanted to use his wand again, but couldn't quite bring himself to. His eyes looked a little crazy; more as if he were simply angry that I had seen him like this.

"I..." I really didn't want to go away, but the furious expression on his face was hardly something I wanted to look at much longer, and I also felt that having seen him crying- something that seemed so oddly out of character- it felt like I shouldn't have seen it at all, as if I were dreaming. But it was the imploring look in his eyes that made me hesitate about leaving. But what on earth would I do? Comfort him? No. For starters I wouldn't know how. And he would probably bite my head off anyway.

"Ok." I finally whispered. I think he was too surprised to say anything else as I turned away; starting to head back the way I had come. I had got to the cracked mirror; and seen my face in the distorted reflection, when I realised that actually, I really, _really_ didn't want to leave him like that, not with that imploring look stabbing into my mind. Gone were the days when we annoyed each other and just went our separate ways. I actually wanted answers, instead of theories, for a change.

"No, actually, I don't want to." I turned back to him, and saw his face twitch. I could tell he would have preferred to have been eaten by the Giant Squid than share my company right now. Naturally, that provided me with the will to stay, "I want you to tell me what's going on; because you've been nothing but weird this year. And I want you to tell me _now_."

"Yeah?" Considering his eyes were red and puffy, he was doing an incredible job of regaining his lost swagger, "I don't remember you being able to tell me what to do."

"Then let me try it this way," I said coolly, drawing my wand and covering the distance between us in a few paces. From a few centimetres away; my wand under his chin, I realised that the look in his eyes wasn't simply imploring. It was frightened. Definitely not of me, despite the fact my wand was currently jabbing him in the face, but of something else; something that was hovering in the back of his mind. Probably the same something that was making him cry. "Tell me now, or I will let slip to Professor Dumbledore exactly who was responsible for the disappearance of the ghosts. I'm sure he will find it _fascinating_."

I don't think he was expecting me to have a reaction like that anymore than I was. I was even more uncertain as to whether I could follow through with that threat or not. But I was beyond caring. Malfoy had unintentionally rubbed too many of his secrets in my face this year, and I was spending no more sleepless nights pondering them. And I heavily doubted pleading with Malfoy to tell me what was wrong anymore than I already had already was going to prove particularly effective.

Malfoy evidently seemed to think I could carry out my threat.

"I can't tell you," He said weakly, "I just...can't."

I felt a stab of frustration hit me, just a few seconds before a surge of sympathy that I had not been expecting. It was probably the fear in his eyes that did it; clouding out his focus as if he were living in a constant state of desperation and anguish. I wondered how long it had been there. Maybe I had been looking at it all along and not really seeing.

"Lame." I snorted, opting for plan-be-mean-until-he-spills-the-beans and settling myself down on a dusty chair strewn with old magazines, "You've had plenty of time to think of a better excuse. As punishment you have to tell me why you're here all the time."

Malfoy stopped the glower he had adopted from my put down at this last part, and simply looked surprised,

"How did...how have you reached that idea?"

"Please," I said, waving my hand dismissively as if it were obvious. The truth was that it had just dawned on me. I was so stupid. How many times had I seen him on the seventh floor, not to mention looking odd when we passed this corridor? It explained why he was so pale and ill-looking all the time; this place could never see sunlight. He'd been coming here for weeks to do...whatever he was doing, "I'm a Ravenclaw, remember?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, and I realised that he had seen straight through that.

"So," I persisted to hide the fact that I was suddenly feeling uncomfortable at my apparently transparent nature, "Why do you come here?"

"I wasn't being difficult. I can't tell you."

"You're being difficult in my opinion," I replied, my temper shortening, "Why? Did you make an unbreakable vow, or something?"

"No."

I waited hopefully for an elaboration, but he seemed as tight lipped and unable to talk as a flobberworm.

"Malfoy," I finally sighed, leaning forwards on my elbows to look up into his face, "I just found you in here crying. You can yell at me that it's none of my business, but the truth is, I've made it my business ever since I read that letter back in October. Please, surely you can tell me?" I knew it was feeble to voice it as a question, and as I expected, Malfoy didn't do as I asked.

"Why do you want to know so much?" He shot angrily, pushing himself up from where he'd been leaning against the wardrobe, "What does it matter?"

"Because I care." I snapped, and then, realising there was a less awkward way of phrasing this, amended myself, "I mean, I care about Hogwarts. And whatever you're doing in here is obviously not going to do much good for it."

He heaved a sigh, not seeming to want to bother with a retort, and sank onto a rickety wooden chair opposite me.

"I have to do this," He finally said in a hoarse whisper, his forehead crumpling, "I don't have a choice."

I imitated a goldfish for several moments, wondering what on earth to say to that.

"Why?" I finally asked weakly.

He didn't answer for a while, but stared at the floor beneath his folded hands as if hoping it would hold the answers for the questions he had reluctantly and despondently accumulated.

"You read that letter." He finally sighed, "And if you're such a great Ravenclaw, you can probably work it out."

"Well, thank you for clearing that up," I snapped tartly, folding my arms,

"It's none of your business anyway," He shot back, and we sat looking surly at each other for a few moments.

I don't know why I started laughing, probably from the ridiculousness of this situation as Malfoy sat glowering at me after a heated argument based around him crying. But whatever the cause, soon I was finding it quite hard to breathe.

"You realise I'm not helping you if you start choking?" Malfoy's voice was a little peevish, but no longer furious, as if the sight of me crying with laughter had lightened his mood slightly.

"Sorry," I sniggered, trying to get a hold of myself, with some difficulty, "I'm not sure why I'm laughing."

"You're always laughing." I actually stopped as he said that. His tone wasn't sneering, or rude, and oddly it sounded a little bit envious. He caught my expression and hastened to add, "It makes sense why you have no friends."

"Ha ha." I sighed, giving him a small grin, "You're not as mean as you pretend to be, you know."

"Really?" He said, his voice dripping with doubt as his eyebrow lifted; a small sneer beginning to curl his lips. I almost took this as a sign that I had cheered him up, and felt quite pleased with myself. It was like I was trying to put a plaster on his drama-ridden mess.

I shot him a small, knowing smile that I think unnerved him slightly, and staggered to my feet; looking around for a clock. I finally found a dusty one that proclaimed the time to be a lot later than I had anticipated.

"Only twenty minutes left of Astromony!" I exclaimed delightfully, "There's no point going now!"

"You had a lesson?" Malfoy sounded so like Terry then that I nearly dissolved into giggles once more.

"I need to get back to the common room and think of an excuse," I sighed, heaving my bag onto my shoulder again. Somewhere ahead, I heard Sampson give a shriek. Looking back at Malfoy, I saw he had opened his mouth, as if about to question my words. I sensed what he was about to say, and had to refrain from snapping.

"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone, Malfoy. Why on earth would I?"

He gave a mild shrug, as if he were running out of reasons not to trust me. I wondered how many of his friendships had been built on distrust. I suppose that's why he wasn't hanging around with any of them anymore.

"I better not see any attitude from you now," I smirked as I hovered between leaving and getting the last word in, "And don't go ignoring me like I don't exist," Sampson fluttered down to my shoulder, and gave a happy call, as if this conversation had been his idea. "I'll be seriously angry if you do."

"I haven't been able to ignore you since that day by the boathouse." He snorted, getting to his feet and straightening his robes. I froze slightly at that, and then grinned, embarrassed.

"Maybe we should re-enact that sometime." I said in my best mock flirtatious voice, that I realised had simply come out as flirtatious, and took my cue to leave.

"Forester?"

I turned back to him, wondering if he was actually going to tell me something that wasn't cryptic or unkind. To my surprise, a small smirk was on his features.

"You smell of burning hair, did you know?"

"Like I said," I smiled, backing down the maze of bookcases and thrilled I wasn't falling over yet, "You _did_ retain some ferret qualities after all."

Sampson gave a small hoot as Malfoy gave an almost smile, as if he had found that particularly funny. I left the room, my heart wondrously lighter than it had been in days.


	23. Chapter 23

**Aww you guys! You send the loveliest reviews :') You really are making this totally worthwhile! And I know I say that everytime. But I mean it.**

**In which the seahorse incident is brought to light, and my arm points several degrees the wrong way**

When I sat down in Flitwick's Charms class the next day and Malfoy actually smiled at me from across the classroom, my hand slipped off my chin and I grazed my elbow on the edge of the desk. Sure, it was only a hesitant, simply acknowledging smile. Goodness knows what a full on smile would have done to me.

Whilst trying to pretend that hadn't happened and arranging my books into a perfectly straight pile, Mulciber's voice in my ear made me jump, causing me to graze my shin on the leg of the desk.

"Is everyone trying to injure me today?" I grumbled, bending down to massage my leg and looking at him quizzically; determinedly swallowing any anxious feelings that leapt to my stomach at the sight of him.

"Are you free Saturday evening?" He asked, his voice low as if he were straining to not be overheard.

"Probably." I said coolly, placing my wand on the desk and looking up to meet his eye, "How come?"

"I think we need to talk." He said in the same undertone, looking around uncomfortably.

"Like, a break up talk?" I asked blankly, wondering how I would feel if it was. Mulciber, however, lowered his brows, looking at me properly for the first time since this conversation had begun.

"Why would I break up with you?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said, working to keep the irritation from my voice, "Maybe because you've been avoiding me as much as I've been avoiding you after Slughorn's party?"

He stared at me for a few moments, with the same unreadable gaze that I doubted I would ever understand.

"Can we just meet in the Entrance Hall at seven?"

"Fine." I sighed, forcing a cautious smile onto my face in the hope that I hadn't come off completely rude.

"What exactly is going on there?" Antony whispered to me as Mulciber walked away, but before I could answer, Professor Flitwick began the lesson; which I considered good fortune, as I didn't really have an answer.

Soon, each person was supplied with a glass of vinegar that we were supposed to be transforming into wine. I studied the glass half-heartedly, the incantation getting lost somewhere in the jumble of my mind.

"Does Mulciber realise its Quidditch this Saturday?" Antony said, sounding as if anyone who didn't realise it was Quidditch that weekend was a total and utter moron. I did my best to pretend I had known this.

"Who's playing?" I asked casually, tapping the edge of my glass with my wand. It emitted a few blue sparks happily.

"Really, Meg?" Terry asked, his vinegar turning into glinting red contents on his second attempt, "I bet even _Snape_ knows whose playing."

"Us and Gryffindor." Antony supplied for me, whilst I shot Terry a scowl, "Final match of the season. Didn't you hear that chant Montague made up for Ron?"

"Must have missed it." I muttered darkly, as Antony tapped his cup. The vinegar became a liquid not quite as red as Terry's.

"Lucky you."

I looked to my left to see Ron sitting there, his conversation with Harry and Hermione seemingly put on halt. From the look on his face, he wasn't looking forward to the game on Saturday at all.

"Oh," I said feebly, feeling awkward, "Well, you're a great player anyway. Imagine the great times they would have making up songs if I played."

"I guess." Ron said, not even looking too cheered up, and I didn't know whether to feel insulted at his lack of argument so I decided for a healthy change of subject.

"How are you and Lavender?"

"Uh," Ron said, and his ears went very pink, "We kinda broke up."

"Oh," I said, realising what a fail that had been to brighten the conversation and trying to sound surprised. From what I had heard from Harry when I had hid with them in the Great Hall, things between them hadn't been that wonderful, "That's a shame. Are you ok?"

"Yeah." Ron shrugged, shooting an uncomfortable glance across the classroom, to where I noticed Lavender was sitting. The blond hair in the corner of my peripheral vision told me she wasn't far away from Draco Malfoy. I tried very hard to focus on the current subject, "I mean, I don't think she's best pleased with me."

I risked a quick glance at Lavender, who sent me such a furious look I made up my mind that I didn't ever want to look that way again.

"Hm," I said lightly, looking back at my vinegar, "I think you may be right."

The lesson ended with me smashing my glass, with the small consolation that I wasn't the only one as Ron showered the majority of the class with stale vinegar.

All in all, I decided I had probably smelt better as I left the classroom into the usual bundle of students making their way through the corridor.

I felt the usual hand shoving me aside as Crabbe led the Slytherins out first. My dark look was ruined as Malfoy shot me a smirk as he walked past; Goyle carrying his books. I had to say he jumped through his emotions with remarkable speed.

"You after Weasel King now he's free?" He grinned sardonically as we brushed shoulders, "You seemed so cosy earlier."

"You've forgotten the tiny detail that I have a boyfriend, moron," I replied instantly, fighting a grin, "But ten out of ten for witticism all the same."

"Hey, Forester!"

The cry broke up our little conversation, and Malfoy moved off into the crowd; not before looking at me for a few seconds, as if he were taking in my face.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, breaking my eye contact.

"Forester," Roger Davies' voice sent a thrill of dread through me as I caught the meaningful tone to it, but I tried to look friendly nonetheless.

"I hope you're not asking me to play a game, because that's not even funny." I said lightly, wondering why I even bothered with the breath when he didn't even look amused before diving straight into what he had come over to say,

"Inglebee's pulled out," Roger said, his usual blasé attitude lost under the stressed look in his eyes, "Couldn't handle the nerves."

"But the match is on Saturday!" I howled, trying not to imagine what me walking out onto the pitch without months of flying would look like, "I'm going to make a right idiot out of myself!"

"You were a good flyer," Roger was obviously trying to make me feel better, as he quailed slightly under my look,

"I nearly fell off my broom when I accidentally caught the Quaffle." I said coldly, "I'll play, but it's going to end very _very _badly."

"Thank you." Roger looked so relieved he looked like he may even be starting to like me a little bit, "We're practicing Thursday evening; come to the pitch at six."

"Do you want to practice at lunchtimes?" Antony said in the most casual voice he could muster once Roger had left, having eavesdropped on us, "Get some extra time to get used to flying again?"

"Why bother?" I said, flicking him a deadpan look and trying hard not to grin, "I'm amazing at Quidditch. I'm the paragon of humanity; the epitome of greatn-"

"Maybe in failing." Pansy Parkinson put in as she stalked past; her group of friends erupting into giggles at her words.

"Lucky you're not playing, huh Pansy?" I called after her, "We'll have a field day with chants. There are a lot of things that rhyme with pug-face, after all."

"This way." Terry said hastily as Pansy turned round; her eyes narrowing, and he grabbed me; rushing down a less crowded corridor.

"I wanted an argument," I grumbled as he released me a few corridors later, evidently when he deemed it safe to unleash me upon the world, "I need to get a few things off my chest."

Terry shot me an amused look just as Antony caught up with us, slightly out of breath.

"Like most of the time, Meg, I was saving you from yourself."

The match on Saturday approached with a speed I didn't find at all agreeable.

It was the final match of the season, so emotions were running high as every house divided into who they were supporting. Roger kept telling me Gryffindor could beat us if they were more than three hundred points up, which I took as him hinting for foul play.

Having lived on the outskirts of the Quidditch world all these years at Hogwarts, I found it incredibly amusing to suddenly be exposed to the ridiculous methods the members of rival houses adopted in an attempt to intimidate the opposing team.

"Yeah, that's wonderful," I shot at a Slytherin fifth year who had just recited some unpleasant poetry about my hair and how I resembled a troll, "You should write that down and tell it at parties."

"That _was_ a clever bit of poetry," Antony mused as I stormed away, trying not to laugh.

The songs and jeering I could handle fine; after all, I had put up with Slytherins for long enough. Yet again, I was kept awake worrying at night with the horrible feeling of nerves, and praying that I could get through the match without making a total idiot of myself.

I was so caught up in my own tangled web of worry and doubts, that it was fifeteen minutes into the Potions lesson on Thursday before I realised that Malfoy wasn't there.

Looking blankly around the classroom, as if maybe he was sitting with someone else in a pathetic attempt at avoiding me, I saw that not only was there a severe lack of anyone with bright blond hair, but Pansy looked ready to burst into tears at any given moment, and kept shooting hateful glances towards Harry Potter's table. Maybe he had finally snapped and killed him.

I waited until we were free to go and collect ingredients, in the mean time enjoying the extra desk space, and then hunted down Terry; who was rifling carefully through jars of Salamander blood.

"Where's Malfoy today?" I asked as indifferently as possible, leaning against the stepladder. It had occurred to me that perhaps he was resorting to more desperate measures of hiding in the Room of Requirement and fulfilling that secret mission of his.

"Didn't you hear?" Terry asked, ducking out of the cupboard with the winning jar, "Harry cursed him with this spell that was some serious dark magic. He had to be taken to the hospital wing. I'm surprised you didn't hear. Moaning Myrtle was popping up everywhere to tell everyone."

"How do I keep missing everything important?" I grumbled, plunging a hand into the cupboard as Snape looked our way. Despite my words, I felt a swoop of worry, that I had not really been expecting. The next words had slipped out before I could stop them, "It wasn't that serious was it?"

"Look who's all worried about Malfoy," Terry grinned, beginning to head back to his desk. I followed, ingredients abandoned. "You can pretend you hate him, but you love nothing more than to exchange insults with each other."

"It is a good part of my day," I shrugged with a rueful grin, rather caught out.

"Miss Forester. I sometimes wonder if you used the Imperius Curse on your examiners." Snape's voice, frosty and unforgiving broke across our conversation. Terry hastily turned to his cauldron, "Because there is little way you could have achieved an O.W.L in this class with your brain alone."

"That's exactly what my mother says, sir." I mumbled, taking the hint and beginning to head back to my desk.

I spent so little time with my thoughts on my potion making that it was a wonder that Snape didn't deduct any house points. My mind was utterly fixed on what had happened between Malfoy and Harry, the empty seat next to be not offering any other topic for my mind to ponder. Picturing Harry attacking Malfoy with dark magic seemed pretty out there, and I was half thinking that Myrtle or Terry had their facts wrong. Most likely Myrtle. Either way, there was no way I could deny that Malfoy was in the hospital wing right now. I could almost label the feelings in my stomach at not seeing him as disappointment, but that would make it seem like I really wanted his company. And I didn't. Not in the slightest.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze, by some miracle remembering I had Quidditch practice, and by an even more brilliant phenomenon staying on my broom and remaining intact.

Friday passed in such a blur I was fairly sure somehow it had been cut out the week. How could History of Magic be over _that _quickly. How could I be standing in the changing rooms when I barely remembered getting up?

Outside the tent, I could hear the crowds on their way to the pitch; their voices raised and excited. A few of the chants that had grown more and more impressive these past few days rose over the laughter and shouting.

"I'm going to be sick." I informed my reflection.

"We've got this in the bag." Cho said easily, picking up her broomstick, "They have to get three hundred points to win."

"And Potter's not playing." Roger added, who had been marching up and down the tent; leaving the grass a little worse for wear now.

"What?" I asked, abandoning the grimacing at the mirror and wheeling round, "Why?"

"Detention with Snape." Roger shrugged, evidently uncaring as long as Harry was far away from here as possible, "Hexed a Slytherin, or something."

"He cursed Malfoy." I murmured, turning back to the mirror. Nobody but my reflection seemed to care about this bit of news.

"Come on then, team," Roger announced, working a hand through his hair, "Let's show the Gryffindors how Quidditch is played."

I wish I could have shared his and Cho's confidence, but I had a nasty feeling, that even despite Harry's absence, we were still going to lose. I didn't dare voice it however, and soon most of my thoughts were obliterated by a multitude of noise as we walked out onto the pitch. The sun was glaring down on a mass of blue and red; the other houses having chosen a side to cheer for. The green grass flashed acid green as I nervously trod towards the centre of the pitch; the waves of colour adding to the nausea accumulating in my stomach.

Madmae Hooch was waiting for the approaching teams; her hands on her hips, eagle eyes sweeping the players faces.

"Captains, shake hands!" She barked, and after a few seconds of debating, Ginny Weasley stepped forwards to shake Roger's hand. There was a steely glint in her eye that made me glad she was playing seeker for this game.

As one, the teams mounted their broomsticks; toes skimming the ground, waiting for the piercing whistle. The keen sound cut across the cheering, which rose impressively higher, and I felt a rush of adrenaline as I kicked off from the ground. Rubbish broom that I was riding, the majority of the team overtook me.

Before I could even consider flying away out of Quaffle range, one of my team chucked the large red ball at me. Too surprised to give it a second thought, I caught it.

"No _way_." I muttered, as I clumsily veered a sharp left so Dean Thomas on the Gryffindor side zoomed past me. Lee Jordan, who was commentating, confirmed that I actually did have the Quaffle, and I finally remembered what I was supposed to be doing with it.

I took off in the direction of the goalposts (after making dead sure it was the one my team were supposed to shoot through) and lobbed it towards Roger, who thankfully caught it. Feeling far too pleased with myself, I flew hastily in pursuit.

I completely lost track of what the score was, my mind was so focused on simply catching the Quaffle, and getting as near as I could get it to the goalposts. I had somehow even managed to block out the cheering and catcalls.

The wind screamed as it blurred past my ears; and I eased my broom higher, letting Roger, who currently had the Quaffle, notice me out of the corner of his eye. I was still finding it amusing that I _wanted_ the Quaffle now. Roger threw it at me; and I hastily snatched it before a Gryffindor chaser could muscle in; and zoomed towards the goalposts, where Ron was bobbing, his eyes fixed on me.

I was actually quite pleased when he saved it. The 'Weasley is our king' taunts were still fresh in my mind from last year.

It took us far too long to get the Quaffle into our possession, by which time Gryffindor were already one hundred points ahead. I could see Cho circling the pitch far ahead, and I wished she would hurry up and catch the snitch already. I hurtled along next to Dean, and punched the Quaffle from his grasp. He gave a cry of frustration and we both dived for it; both of us ending up rather disgruntled as Roger snatched it from under us.

The game only got more and more tense; with Gryffindor climbing further and further into the lead; and I got the feeling that my earlier prediction for a Ravenclaw loss was going to prove accurate. That didn't stop me being penalised for nearly shoving Demelza Robins off her broomstick. By accident of course.

Gryffindor was two hundred and ninety points ahead as I desperately lobbed the Quaffle at Ron a half hour later. I was no longer caring quite so much about his feelings. I let out a cry of frustration as he saved it, sending me a 'ha better luck next time' sort of smile. I glared.

"...And its Demelza Robins from Gryffindor with the Quaffle!" Lee was shouting, and I yanked my broomstick around, in time to see Demelza rocket past the halfway line, the Quaffle tucked neatly under her arm as she dodged round Roger, who made a wild grab for the Quaffle and totally missed it.

"Wonderful." I muttered, seeing what was going to happen a second before it did.

"SHE SCORES!" Lee yelled, as the Gyrffindor supporters went ballistic, "She scores! Gryffindor lead by three hundred and fifty to fifty!"

I shot towards the centre of the pitch, ready to wait for when Roger got the Quaffle off Demelza. Somehow, I doubted it was going to happen.

There was a sudden excited shouting and gasping in the crowds, and I followed the pointing arms of a few of the spectators to see Ginny and Cho diving through the air; following a small sparkle of gold that was steadily nearing the bottom of the pitch. I stared, transfixed, as both of them hurtled towards the ground; and I realised what a crummy player I was compared to these two.

They were neck and neck, and I felt my broom edging towards them as I craned my neck,

"Come on," I muttered, wishing Cho to lean forwards just a tiny bit more...

Ginny's fist whipped out; closing around the Snitch; the small fluttering ball obscured as she shot back into the air, and the Gryffindor supporters went crazy.

"GRYFFINDOR WIN!" Lee was screaming, "TAKE THAT ROGER- Sorry Professor, I mean...The final score is five hundred to fifty! Gryffindor win the cup!"

It took me a while, over all the noise, to work out that somebody was calling my name. I turned slightly, in time to see Ron waving his arms in warning. I looked over my shoulder, and saw a Bludger hurtling towards me, evidently under the impression game was still in play.

Too late to turn, it hit me with ringing force.

There was a horrible cracking noise as I felt my arm break. I gasped as jarring pain shot up from my forearm; making me feel like vomiting then and there. A few people who had been watching made sympathetic 'ooo' noises.

I landed in a rather ungainly heap onto the pitch, hanging off my broom for support, dizziness clinging to my brain, making my movements sluggish. I cast a look down at my arm, and gave a noise that was half a cry of shock, and half a freaked out giggle. My arm was hanging at a most unusual angle; as if my elbow had been put on back to front. I looked at it until it made me want to throw up. Being sick in front of the whole school was not an experience I wanted to endure. I don't think Pansy would let it die somehow.

Through the wave of Gryffindors sprinting out onto the pitch, I saw a few blurs of blue coming out to; the details lost through the tears stinging my eyes as the pain worsened. Wonderfully, two blurs that were heading in my direction.

"Meg!" Terry cried hoarsely as I kind of crumpled to the ground, unable to stand up and stay conscious at the same time, "Are you alright?"

"My arm is facing about ninety degrees in the wrong direction," I hissed through clamped teeth, "What do you think?"

"Let's go to the hospital wing then, Miss Sarcastic," Antony said good-naturedly, hauling me to my feet, "Lucky Lockhart's not here, eh?"

I think I must have passed out a little, as I certainly didn't remember the walk back to the castle, and only tuned in when Terry was heaving me up the Clock Tower staircase.

"Ow." I groaned as he half-supported, half-carried me in the direction of the hospital wing,"Ow. Ow. _Ow_."

"Now you're a real Quidditch player, Meg." Antony said cheerfully, trotting after us, still carrying a Ravenclaw banner, "You're flying in that game was easily the coolest thing you've ever done!"

"Personally, I think my best moment of glory was that jinx that caused leaks to sprout from Malfoy's ears." I mumbled somewhat deliriously, wincing as Terry shouldered the door to the hospital open.

I didn't have much time to take my surroundings in before Terry dumped me on the nearest bed and staggered backwards, rubbing his back,

"I'm not _that_ heavy." I grumbled, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable. It was hard when your arm was sticking out like a broken tree branch.

"I'll get Madame Pomfrey," Terry mumbled, evidently preferring not to answer this.

"No need, no need," The famously short-tempered matron said, bustling over and shoving him aside, "What's wrong here then?"

"I think I broke a fingernail." I said shortly, unable to resist the sarcasm, "But when I tried to look at it I noticed my arm was like this."

"A comedian, eh?" Madame Pomfrey didn't sound the slightest bit impressed at my humour, "I can mend it in a heartbeat, but you'll be staying here overnight; the tonic for the pain makes students rather woozy and inane."

"I don't we'll notice much of a difference," Antony said with a wry smile as I shot him a furious scowl.

Much to my reluctance, Madame Pomfrey stretched my arm out; it still looking repellently amusing with its lack of straightness and muttered "_Episkey_!" under her breath. I let out an odd mewl of surprise and pain as my arm realigned with a satisfying crack.

"That's the grossest thing I've ever seen." Terry muttered, his face very pale, as Madame Pomfrey handed me a bottle of some liquid that I was evidently supposed to drink. "And we've done six years worth of Potions classes."

Madame Pomfrey made them leave not long after this.

I was stuck in a slightly feverish set of dreams for the rest of the afternoon, probably due to the potion she'd given me, stirring between semi-consciousness and being awake; not being particularly able to distinguish which was which.

When I finally came round properly, the pain in my arm was reduced to a dull throbbing, and as I awkwardly sat up; a few of my many pillows falling to the ground, I realised that somebody was watching me from the other side of the wing.

I took in Malfoy and two thoughts came into my head at the same time. I went for the first one.

"You _would_ have posh black pyjamas."

He gave me a pained look, pulling up his covers slightly as if a little self-conscious. When he didn't reply I went for the second thought.

"Do you know who you remind me of?"

Malfoy looked back at me at these words, and actually responded,

"My father?" I think he was trying to joke, but his voice wavered slightly, as if that was the answer he was a little bit afraid of.

"No." I said, watching him carefully, "I was going to say a ghost. There's a weird, haunted look in your eyes. You seem kind of... distant."

He studied me for a moment, his grey eyes unmoving.

"That was quite intense for you."

"Don't listen to me, I'm delirious," I snorted, waving the seriousness away, "So is it true Harry hexed you?"

Malfoy sank down onto his pillows, playing with his fingers. He looked just as tired as ever.

"It must have been a pretty monumental hex if you wound up here," I ploughed on courageously, "Do you have any impressive scarring?"

"No."

"You don't have to pretend not to like me, you know," I grinned, sitting up straighter, "There's no one around."

"Who's pretending?"

"Are we feeling bitter about being stuck in bed?" I said, adopting a mock pitiful voice and sticking my bottom lip out, "I thought I told you in the Room of Requirement there was to be no attitude from you, Malfoy."

"Ask me nicely."

"The Flying Seahorse way? Or the normal way?" I said, with a smirk more worthy of him. He dropped his hands at that, looking at me with a raised eyebrow,

"You know you said it was an accident at the time," He finally said in a slow voice, "Was it really?"

"Yes." I said in frustration, testing my arm. The twinge of pain told me I probably would be here overnight, "I was leaning forwards to catch the seahorse for the Potions ingredients, then it shot out the water; I slipped and fell on you. It looked like I was jumping you. You freaked out. The end."

We studied each other for a few seconds, Malfoy's expression blank.

"I didn't _freak_ out." Malfoy finally said.

"Well, you have an odd way of keeping calm." I smothered my laugh in my blankets, my spirits heightening for the first time since losing the Quidditch cup and smashing my arm.

"Well, it's not every day a girl I'd never talked to leaps across the boathouse at me." He snorted, his fingers springing up to intertwine again.

"And then the magic began and you could never shut me up." I sniggered.

"Exactly."

There was something in the way he said it that made it hard for me to look away from his face. His eyes flicked over to mine, and for a few moments we simply looked at each other. I had been right, his eyes did seem oddly vacant, as if he were indeed a ghost; living in a fear that I doubted I would ever understand or work out for myself unless he told me what he was up to. And I _really_ wanted him to.

The hospital doors banged open, and both Malfoy and I jumped.

"It's the Quidditch idiot!" My sister squealed, abandoning her group of chattering friends in the doorway and hurrying over, Fitzwilliam the pygmy puff riding happily on her shoulder. I eyed both of them darkly.

"Hi." I said cautiously.

"Evening, loser." She said cheerfully, settling down on the chair by my bed and dumping the pygmy puff on my chest, "Look who has come to see you."

"I don't know who I'm less thrilled to see," I replied, scowling at Fitzwilliam, "Did you see the match?"

"Of course I did." She scoffed, "You were abysmal, by the way."

"I was amazing!" I corrected her, sitting up so the pygmy puff slid down my front. Jade cocked an eyebrow at me.

"You didn't score once."

Over on the other side of the wing, a snort issued from Malfoy's corner.

"That's beside the point." I said slowly, ignoring him and playing with the threads of my blanket, "Why are you here?"

"What? A younger sister can't visit her stupid older sister when she's smashed her arm in?" Jade asked in mock horror. But she hesitated for a moment, and my interest heightened,

"What, Jade?"

"Well," She looked a little flustered, "I wanted to talk to you about Mulciber."

"What about him?" I asked, totally taken aback. Jade sucked her cheek, evidently deliberating about how to voice something.

"Are you serious about him?"

"Define _serious_."

"As in, go out with and meet with other summer, and kiss and stuff."

"Oh." I flopped down on the bed again, ignoring the stab of pain my arm gave. I hadn't thought about Mulciber since he had spoken to me in Charms, and even then all the thought I'd given him was the worry about what he thought of me after he had tried to kiss me. I hadn't set aside much consideration for the future.

Jade seemed to be expecting an answer.

"Sure." I said feebly, forcing an easy grin onto my face, "How come?"

She shrugged,

"He just didn't seem like the kind of guy you would like."

Another snort issued from Malfoy's bed.

"Well, if you know what kind of guy I like, please tell me," I scoffed, "It would help a lot for future reference."

"Fine, you know best," Jade smiled, her teasing nature returning, "I just came to bring you these (she pulled out a small box of Bertie Bott's Beans from her robe pocket and waggled them) and to tell you that you suck at Quidditch."

"Says the girl who broke the kitchen window when she flung her broomstick through it." I retorted.

Another snort.

"Ignore Malfoy," I said loudly, as Jade frowned in his direction, "He's got a serious case of snorting at random intervals. Madame Pomfrey doesn't think there's anything she can do."

"You're such a weirdo, Meg," She sighed pityingly, patting me on my head before scooping up the pygmy puff, "Get better soon."

Her exit left an uncomfortable silence between Malfoy and I, ended by him slumping down onto his pillows, decidedly ignoring me.

"This is going to be great," I said happily, fumbling with the packet of beans already, "A evening of talking until midnight and braiding our hair, I reckon."

"It's going to be such a fun time." He mumbled, his tone seeming to hint that he wanted to be dead.

"There," I said, flinging a bean at him with a happy smile, "You may be right."


	24. Chapter 24

**A huge thank you to all the lovely reviews that came with the last chapter, guys! So that's Lixsabell, i n f i n i t i e Masquerade, the HalfBloodAuthor and MeganAlice, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx and dementedandproud...I think that was all of you... you all made me feel so much better after my Pottermore email still failed to come- dammit Errol. **

**Also, I used a little idea the HalfBloodAuthor gave me- so full credit to her! **

**P.S. Sorry it's a bit of a long chapter. I wanted to squeeze a certain scene in ;)**

**In which I run around school in pyjamas and my brain function surprisingly well. Oh, and I trip again.**

I had to say I was a little disappointed but not too surprised by the lack of hair braiding and talking that went on that night.

Instead, I discovered how strict Madame Pomfrey was when it came to lights out, at the same time she discovered how annoying I could be when unwilling to go to sleep. It was only when she came marching out from her office at one in the morning threatening to keep me in for the week that I decided silence and sleep was the better option than talking for the moment.

I woke up on Sunday morning exceedingly early; my hair matted around my head in what I'm sure was a very attractive manner. I was comforted by the fact that my arm was no longer hurting, despite feeling a little stiff. Still, that was the last time I played Quidditch when there were Bludgers involved.

Stretching, and tossing back the sheets to roll out of bed, I saw that Malfoy was asleep; quite an achievement as he had spent most of the night awake and telling me to stop talking to him.

I regarded him curiously as I attempted a half hearted making of the bed in an attempted apology to Madame Pomfrey for my behaviour last night. It was odd seeing him asleep, his face was vacant of any of the stress and pressures that made him look so miserable when he was awake. I almost quite liked this worry-free Malfoy.

He stirred slightly, and I felt my heart lurch guiltily as I hastily looked away. There was no doubt he would be creeped out if he woke up to find me ogling him.

"And where do you think you're going?"

I jumped, caught out, as Madame Pomfrey marched into the ward, not looking the least bit impressed with me. I don't think we'd got off to the best start.

"I feel better," I said a little defensively, straightening up, "And I've stayed overnight. I thought I'd go."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you," She said stiffly, motioning me over and beginning to examine my arm.

"It's fine." I told her huffily, "I just want to go and have breakfast."

Over in his corner, I saw we'd woken Malfoy up. I felt a little bad having kept him up so long last night as well. No wonder he hated me.

"In your pyjamas?" I glanced back at Madame Pomfrey. Now she was just being difficult.

"Well it was either that or smelly Quidditch robes," I snorted, "And there's a _boy_ over there."

"Let's not pretend I haven't seen you change before, Forester." Malfoy mumbled, a wicked smirk on his face that really belonged back in the fourth year. I felt the heat rise to my face.

"Do you want me to give you another hex to work with?" I shot at him, and he shrugged, sinking back down onto the bed.

In the end I managed to escape the hospital wing with my pyjamas and my apparently 'infamously troublesome reputation' intact, although I decided it was probably a better plan to get changed before I went to get breakfast in the Great Hall.

Unfortunately for me, there were a few people up and about regardless of the early hour, and I hurried past people heading for breakfast with my head bowed, hoping people would think the reason I was strutting around in shorts and a t-shirt was because of some wonderful new fashion trend. Somehow, I doubted they would.

The corridors in the floors above were more empty; sunlight streaming in shafts through the hazy windows; illuminating specks of dust that drifted as lazily as the clouds high up in the sky outside. I ambled along with my mind still several floors back in the hospital wing with Malfoy.

I had abandoned all attempts to find out what he was doing through him himself. There was no way he was going to tell me unless he did so by accident, and I didn't like the angry, frustrated looks he kept shooting me whenever I tried to weasel it out of him. I could always engage crazy stalker mode and simply hide in the Room of Requirement until he came. The idea was tempting, but I would probably get myself caught with my lack of stealth, and if he turned his wand on me simply when I caught him crying, I didn't want to think what he would do if he knew I had found out what he was up to. I decided to reserve this plan for when it was getting more desperate. We still had several more weeks left of term, and no doubt Malfoy would get more and more panicked with each passing day, with some luck maybe letting something slip.

There was also the small, niggling feeling that I had kept in the back of my mind and ignored relatively well up until now, that I didn't _want_ to find out. Whatever he was doing couldn't be good, if it was a task set by You Know Who, and I had a terrible, unfounded fear that if Malfoy succeeded everything was going to change, and for the worse.

_Tell somebody_. A voice, sounding awfully like Terry bit into my mind, but I pushed it back. What would I say? Excuse me, but Malfoy has been crying in the Room of Requirement so I think he's up to something. I snorted.

There was also the horrible, selfish fact that I liked being the only one onto this. Or at least as far as I knew. Perhaps Harry had a small hint something was going on, but I was fairly sure he had a sixth sense for this kind of thing so it barely counted.

I didn't see that I'd reached the top of Ravenclaw tower until I nearly walked into the eagle knocker.

"You didn't die in the Quidditch game then?" It said in a voice dripping with disappointment. "Shame."

"How you're not the Slytherin door knocker, I'll never know." I said tiredly, "Shut up and give me a riddle."

"Two in a corner, one in a room, zero in a house but one in a shelter, what am-"

"Meg!"

A sandy-haired person hurtled into me, cutting off the rest of the riddle.

"Way to break her arm again, Antony." Terry's voice said, a little further off as I wrestled with my assailant, laughing loudly.

"Why are you in pyjamas?" Antony asked, finally releasing me and sending the eagle a grin. It scowled back.

"I staged an escape from the hospital wing." I shrugged, beaming as I straightened my t-shirt, "I only had so much time."

"We needed you back in the Great Hall," Terry said with a sigh, shaking his head, "That usual lot from Slytherin are so bitter Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup they're being unbearable. Comebacks aren't my speciality. And Pansy keeps acting out you breaking your arm."

"Charming." I said as the eagle grunted in apparent amusement.

"I'm sorry," Terry said politely, turning to the knocker, "You were saying something."

"Two in a corner," The eagle repeated moodily, its eyes narrowing but making no comment, "One in a room, zero in a house but one in a shelter, what am I?"

"The letter 'r'," Antony supplied before anyone could say anything, "You used that one last week."

The knocker started moaning about something, and after a quick glance between the three of us, we banged through the doorway; talking loudly about Quidditch and the weather, so it was drowned out.

"I hate that thing." I muttered once we were inside, "Right, I'm going to change and then I'm stealing some croissants..."

I trailed off as I saw the Grey Lady emerge from the top of the staircase; her eyes closed as if she were thinking of times long passed. Which she probably was. I took little notice of what she was doing however, as my mind had suddenly hit an idea as I stood there watching her.

"I'm so _stupid_," I whispered, watching her gliding down the stairs,

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Antony said briskly, not noticing where I was looking, "Those riddles can be quite tricky."

Terry started to say something, but I had already walked away, striding to the Grey Lady with a determined look.

"Hey," I realised this probably wasn't the best start to the conversation, hinted by the fact that she didn't open her eyes, so I got the rest of the sentence out quickly, "Um...When you vanished, where exactly did you go?"

I couldn't believe it had taken me this long to ask a ghost about their disappearance after the exchange I had had with the Fat Friar. I think that conversation had barely counted as I had insulted him a little too much to divulge any information from him.

She opened her eyes and looked down at me with what seemed like great reluctance, but I bit back any remark and waited patiently for her to catch up, not wanting a repeat of the Fat Friar discussion.

"Where did I go?" She repeated, and I decided the heavens were testing me, "I don't think any soul could answer that, and certainly not me."

"At least describe it," I said through clenched teeth.

"Very well. It was certainly most odd, young Ravenclaw. At times I thought it was light, but then it was dark; and we heard mutterings; as if voices were circling through our heads-"

"Like a limbo, or something?"

"And when we were sent there," She ploughed on, seeming irritated at my interruption, "It felt as if something was pinching my insides; clawing me into this dimension where we were imprisoned. That was pain like I have never known it."

"Right." I said tiredly, my eagerness that I had felt when I had seen her now dribbling into non-existence. "Thanks, I guess."

"Are you trying to work it out?" She called after me as I began to walk away, "That shows the inquisitive mind of a Ravenclaw, I suppose."

"Care to give me a few more hints?" I said acerbically, my disappointment making me a little tetchy.

"I seem to believe that whatever pulled us from here was a contraption or object. It made odd noises and there was sometimes a grating noise as if a door were being opened."

I wheeled around at this, but she had already vanished through the wall. An object. I had heard that theory before; from Luna Lovegood who had heard a whirring sound on the seventh floor...

"Oh my..."

I clapped my hands to my mouth as my mind whirred frantically. The _seventh_ floor.

"Meg, are you ok?" Antony's face appeared before mine, "You look like you did when you had too much Red Current Rum at the Yule Ball."

"I'm...fine" I said feebly, lowering my hands, "Just...uh...worked something out."

Terry and Antony were both looking at me with something bordering on concern, (which I later decided that their doubt that my brain could reach a conclusion was just plain rude) so I made a quick excuse of going to get changed and sprinted up to my dormitory.

Once there, I sat down on my bed, only to spring up a few moments later to start pacing in an attempt to sort my clogged brain out.

Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, that machine was linked with what Malfoy was doing on in the Room of Requirement. I hit my forehead angrily. Of _course_ it was. He had admitted to me outright, and completely accidentally, that he had caused their disappearance. So he had done it with an object. And object that made ghosts get caught in this weird state of being. No, that couldn't be it. He had been crying long after the ghosts had vanished, so that was obviously not his goal. Nor had his goal been to get the ghosts _back_, as he had still been crying after that. Assuming he was crying over his failings of course, and not his Quidditch team doing badly or something stupid and completely irrelevant.

"Why can't he just worry about Potions and exams like a normal person?" I grated, kicking my trunk savagely.

"Meg," Padma's voice murmured weakly from behind the hangings of her bed, "Can you stop talking to yourself please? It's a little early."

I restored Antony and Terry's looks of concern back to normal once I hurried back down to the common room with a few minutes of bad jokes and complaints about Potions. My mind felt oddly tired after so much information being plied on it so early in the morning, but the coffee, sausages and eggs I gorged on at breakfast did nothing but increase the frantic droning of thoughts in my mind, so I was really rather impressed that I was still sane by lunchtime.

We spent the day out in the grounds; as warm weather was becoming more and more frequent; the sun streaming out from wispy clouds, seeming to cast everything in an orange tint; casting aside the cold, rainy spring. A few brave students were paddling in the lake already; jeans rolled up and shoes scattered back on the bank as they tickled the tentacles of the Giant Squid. Having been somewhat afraid of sea animals after being stung by a jellyfish at the young age of five, I kept my distance.

Whenever Antony and Terry got too caught up in a conversation about Arithmancy (a subject they could go on about for _hours_) I let my thoughts take over my mind; clouding the sights around me as I mulled over what I had guessed from the Grey Lady. It always led back to the impression that Malfoy's mission from You Know Who involved an object, probably in the Room of Requirement, that had the power to make ghosts vanish, and then bring them back. And somehow, Malfoy was failing. I could never get much further, as my brain gave up or my friends would address me, and I let the matter sink back, unresolved.

Malfoy was back in classes on Monday, and the temptation to slyly ask what could exorcise ghosts was extremely hard to resist as we stirred potions and cut up Salamander tails. But I was a little distracted from this line of attack by Pansy, who now that Malfoy was back in lessons, seemed to decide he was the most amazing human on earth (she didn't take my insistences that he was a smirking idiot as much to go by) and kept asking how he was; fixed back on her place on his arm and grinning in her unpleasant way, as if she were in the best place in the world. I had to say I felt a little ill when I saw her clutching his arm; following him like, well, like a pug dog.

"How are you, Draco?" She simpered Monday afternoon in the corridor as we queued to get into Transfiguration, after a particularly gruelling hour of History of Magic, so naturally everyone was still waking up, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He replied shortly, and I looked up in surprise from the Chocolate Frog Card I had been pretending to examine whilst eavesdropping on them.

When we had been in the third year and that hippogriff had mauled Malfoy's arm the fuss he had kicked up were as if the creature had bitten his head off. Not just that, but he had seemed to take the greatest pleasure in making Pansy feel as sorry as possible for him; swaggering around and not missing a chance to enthuse how much pain he was in. Of course, he had more reason to do so when I had lost my temper in Herbology and thrown a trowel at his face.

Now, however, his jaw was gritted in a way that I recognised as his temper being restrained with difficulty. Hell, I should know. He'd pulled that expression plenty of times around me. But my gaze were fixed entirely on the cold expression in his eyes. There was a dislike in them that I had never seen before, not even when he was looking at me, as if he wanted to shake Pansy off, but was too polite to do so. That made me snort.

Malfoy's eyes flickered to mine at that, and I dropped my gaze, embarrassed.

"What do you want, Mudblood?" Pansy's voice sneered over the rest of the class, and I looked up, amused, as I realised she was addressing me.

"Mudblood?" I repeated, looking briefly at Malfoy. I felt a flicker of annoyance at how interested he was now looking, "I'll go with that. It's better than pug-face, I suppose."

Her face flushed in an ugly manner, and I felt more in my stride. I turned to Malfoy with a pleasant smile,

"Do you want your tie back sometime, Malfoy?" I said with a guileless smile, "It's in my dormitory still, you see."

Several things happened in a very small space of time. Pansy made a weird shriek noise, her hold on Malfoy's arm tightening to the point of looking painful; a few people who had heard started whispering, looking scandalised; and Professor McGonagall came out of the classroom to announce the start of the lesson, her sharp expression probably the only thing that stopped Pansy hexing, or slapping me.

Giving her a offhand smile, I strolled lazily into the classroom, feeling happier than I had in weeks.

"What was all that about?" Terry asked blankly as sat down, looking between me and a rather flustered looking Malfoy, and a totally furious Pansy.

"I thought I'd annoy Pansy with the fact that I have Malfoy's tie," I shrugged, taking my wand out of my bag, "I think it worked, don't you?"

"But why do you have his tie?" Terry continued weakly. I decided to pretend I hadn't heard him.

I didn't notice the significance of Mulciber sitting down in front of me until Terry leant towards me and whispered in an undertone,

"Urm, Meg?" His voice was tentative, and I shot him a questioning look, "Shouldn't you have met Mulciber Saturday night?"

"Oh, crap!" I shouted loudly, causing a few people to look at me critically, "Do you think he knows I was in the hospital wing?"

"Settle down, class." McGonagall barked, sending me a disapproving look as I ran my hands through my hair despairingly, "Miss Forester, if you keep using language like that you will leave this class. Now, we're going to be continuing our work on transforming mice this lesson, Mr Finnigan, take the box of mice..."

I spent the lesson trying to summon up the courage to talk to Mulciber once we had been dismissed, and I was so distracted with the possible sentences I could use that I hadn't noticed my mouse had escaped until Seamus plonked it back on the desk for me.

But I had worried in vain, because the moment the class were free to go to break, Mulciber stuffed his books into his bag and left before I could disentangle my skirt from my chair.

"Moody git," I mumbled to Terry as we trudged towards the viaduct to meet Antony, "Didn't he see my arm get broken?"

"Does he watch Quidditch matches?" Terry asked, seeming to be trying to keep his voice neutral so he didn't stir me up into more of a temper,

"No. 'Cos he's an anti-social troll who doesn't like Quidditch." I grated, pushing past some milling third years crossly.

"A few months ago _you_ didn't like Quidditch." He reminded me, fighting a smile.

"Well, I do now." I said, raising my eyebrows as if this were obvious.

Despite my grumpy approach to Mulciber ignoring me, I was more worried than anything else, and as a result; when the rest of my dormitory was fast asleep, I lay wide awake; staring at the canopy of my four poster and the posters of the Weird Sisters I had stuck there to liven it up a little, turning over the matter in my mind.

It didn't help me fall asleep at all, as I ended getting more and more riled, so in the end I clambered out of bed and shuffled down to the sofas by the fire; stretching and yawning.

I got partially comfortable on a deep blue chaise lounge; my legs drawn up to nestle under my chin, until my eyes fell on the door to the staircase.

I knew that the easiest way to clear my mind would be to engage in rule-breaking, as then I would be totally focused on not getting caught to worry about things like Mulciber and I's relationship. It was a wonderful plan, unless I ran into Filch, Mrs. Norris, Snape or Professor McGonagall. Not that I cared about house points, it was just a rather unpleasant matter I would like to avoid.

My feet carried me to the door before I'd really processed the thought properly, and the cold metal of the handle seemed to instil a bought of rebellion. I turned it quietly.

The eagle on the other side was snoring, and I crept out holding my breath, wincing as the handle creaked slightly when I closed the door with a soft 'click'. I turned cautious eyes on the eagle, but it slept on.

Pleased at my own audaciousness, I scurried down the stairs; half a mind to go to the kitchens and find some food. But as that suggestion had once been mentioned by Mulciber, I darkly shoved it aside, and instead headed for the floors above; figuring that was furthest away from Snape and therefore less likely to end in more rat-brain pickling.

I ended up walking without much elegance; my feet rising absurdly high off the ground with each step so as to avoid getting caught in the tassels of the rugs scattering the floor.

I was looking over my shoulder as I passed through a door leading onto a stone bridge when I heard a small exhale, as though somebody ahead of me was humouredly surprised.

I spun round so fast I jarred my elbow on the doorway; the dull throb of pins and needles that always came with hitting the funny bone ensuing. Needless to say, it wasn't that funny.

"OW!"

"Shut up," The person who had exhaled hissed, and I looked across the bridge at the Slytherin who stood there, wondering how we seemed to be the only two students to ever walk about the castle at night.

"Easy for you to say," I whispered hoarsely across the bridge to Malfoy, who was at the other end, looking as if he had just come through the door himself. "That really hurt!"

"Wow, I wonder what it must be like to get _hurt_." Malfoy said with a small grin that wasn't as, well, _smirky_ as normal. He still seemed on top form with his sarcasm though, "I wonder what it must be like to go to the hospital wing because you're in so much _pain_?"

"Now it's your turn to shut up," I smiled tiredly, extricating myself from the door, "Have you been in the Room of Requirement, then?"

The smile vanished from his face and he leant one arm across the balustrade, looking exhausted,

"I wish you would stop trying to find out what I'm doing." He sighed heavily as I made my slow way over to him, watching out for protruding cobblestones.

"Well, you have certainly kept the mystery very well," I commented, reaching my destination and flinging my arms over the edge of the bridge a few centimetres away from him; looking out across at the mountains veiled in darkness, "And that just makes me want to know even more." I flicked him a humoured expression, "And we just keep on running into each other."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were following me, Forester."

I gave a small exhalation of humour, and then let slip a serious thought my mind had been dwelling on.

"Or you're running around, just like me."

We both sneaked a glance at each other at the exact same moment, and I looked away hurriedly, blushing.

We stayed there a while, drinking in the night air; looking at the china blue sky. I took a while to work out that I was perfectly comfortable here, and that my mind was empty of worry; all fears and anger blotted out by the few glittering stars that were winking high above the horizon. I smiled contentedly, the sense that Malfoy was only a few centimetres away somehow quite comforting.

Malfoy moved away wordlessly when my fingers were starting to grow cold, and I unconsciously moved with him; heading back the way I had come.

"Let's play dodge the teachers, huh?" I said, arching an eyebrow at him. He let out a small sound in agreement, seeming amused. However, even the worry that we might run into Filch seemed to have been pushed back into a grey, un-worrying area now that I had stood peacefully with him for a while. I made a mental note to come here a lot more often when we started N.E.W.T year.

Over the years, I had noted that Hogwarts tended to give you situations that had happened before.

For example, I always, no matter how early I got up in the morning, arrived at the Platform 9 and ¾ with roughly thirty seconds to spare before the train actually left. I don't know how I did it, but there always seemed to be some obstacle that prevented me being on time.

There's also, for instance, that one portrait that likes to offer smug remarks when you're lost in the castle; and points you along in the completely wrong direction for a laugh. Those kinds of portraits had led to far too many bad first impressions with my teachers.

This time, however, the repetition of the time by the boathouse was rather less trivial than any other recurrence.

My sock caught on a rough cobblestone that was sticking out, and I stumbled forwards; using the first thing I could grab that would stop me falling over.

It just so happened, that thing was Malfoy.

My arms clung around his neck; pulling his lean frame downwards so our noses were almost touching. It took me a while to realise he had actually caught me, his hands around my waist and his eyes wide with surprise. That made two of us.

"I..." I trailed off awkwardly, wondering if he was going to shove me aside and never miss an opportunity to try and insult me from then on, as had happened last time.

However, this time he looked at me for a moment, as if trying to gage whether I was pulling his leg or had genuinely tripped.

Then something else lit in his eyes, something I thought that maybe I had seen before when Snape had kicked me out of the classroom, or whenever I had looked up to find him studying me. I wasn't too sure what it was, but there was a glint in his eyes that forced me to stay exactly where I was.

And then he leant down and kissed me.


	25. Chapter 25

**Urgh I'm sorry about the lack of updates... I'm such a bad person :P Basically I had a mental block with this chapter... and I realised how scarily close to the end of their school year I am D: I've been considering covering the seventh year at Hogwarts- cos I just can't leave Malfoy alone ;)**

**I hope none of you have died or exploded as you threatened to do...but thank you for stating you would if I didn't update- It makes me very happy!**

**Wherein sprouting antlers and pumpkin heads becomes the new fashion and potatoes become incredibly interesting.**

It was rather unexpected. So unexpected my knees actually went a little weak. It had been an accident that I had tripped in the first place, but certainly one that I was not about to correct. My hands were trapped between me and him; now resting on his chest, which I briefly decided was not an unpleasant place to be touching at all. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer into a breathless embrace. I wondered briefly if I should pull away, extricate myself from his arms and just freak out. But then that contemplation was cast roughly and unceremoniously aside with the thought of why on earth would I _want_ to do that? The night didn't really feel that cold anymore, in fact, it was getting pretty warm. I had the sudden thought that I could stay here all night; drinking in his touch, and his incredibly soft lips.

With a suddenness that I didn't care for at all, Malfoy's lips tore away. I stood there, frozen in place hopefully for a little while longer, my eyelids finally fluttering open to find him a centimetre away from my face, regarding my expression curiously,

"You're not insulting me for once." He noted softly, his breath tickling my skin,

"I could say the same." I agreed feebly, my head reeling. The fact that I had been kissing _Draco Malfoy_ didn't instil the disgust with which I would have regarded it with at, say, the beginning of term. And I wasn't even sure if I would have hated the idea then. Either way, right now I was more than content to be here; wanting to kiss him fiercely again. Hell, more than content.

"I believe," Said a frosty voice from just over my shoulder, "That this constitutes as being out of bed _after_ hours."

I had jumped so badly I think my feet had taken off from the floor, and I whirled round to glare at the person who was seriously and extremely unwelcome right now.

I decided the universe definitely hated me when I saw Snape glaring right back.

"Oh, Merlin." I muttered under my breath, waiting for the explosion. All decent excuses evaporated from my mind, leaving nothing but a knotted feeling of dread, and a warm fuzzy happiness that was definitely not from Snape's appearance. I think it was more owed to Malfoy still being within touching distance.

"I think this merits at least sixty points from Ravenclaw," Snape finally said, a viciously pleased glint in his eyes as he took in the look of horror on my face. He must be really annoyed; I had never lost that many points from him before. However, when he didn't look like he was going to say anything else my dismay was outweighed by resentment,

"Hang on," I said indignantly, jabbing Malfoy in the chest, "He's in Slytherin. Where is his point deduction?"

"I shall speak to Mr Malfoy in due course," Snape said silkily, not sparing Draco a glance, "And I believe I shall see you in my office for detention this Friday, Miss Forester. Eight o'clock. You may go."

I was left with little choice, and something told me arguing back was not going to help my case much. I flicked a glance to Malfoy before I moved; and was surprised to see that cold look on his face that seemed to appear whenever he and Snape were face to face. I would have preferred a warm look in my direction after what had just happened, and I felt a renewed justification in my dislike of Snape.

"Fine," I said irritably in Snape's direction, "'Night."

I looked back as surreptitiously as I could before I left the bridge; holding the door ajar. Snape was still looking at me coolly, probably to make sure I didn't do exactly what I was doing now. But my eyes were still on Malfoy, who looked a little bit paler than usual; his narrowed eyes on Snape with something like, well, _suspicion_.

I looked between them for a few seconds until Snape interrupted my pensiveness,

"I believe I told you to go, Miss Forester."

I dashed through the door before he could deduct any more house points, my heart racing as everything that had happened in the past five minutes rushed back through my head, allowing me time to process it. My brain was still clammering as I hurtled into bed, having woken the eagle up and, much to its fury, had actually solved the riddle with my own brain power.

I had kissed Draco Malfoy. Or rather, Draco Malfoy had kissed me.

I knew it was elation that was making me grin like a complete idiot, and there was a happiness in my chest; almost bursting from me, that I had never really felt before. Not the type that came from a funny joke, or from being in a lovely place, but from being with a person. It was a warm, happy feeling from being with Draco Malfoy, and I think, on a small scale, that perhaps it had been there a while.

I was still grinning like a complete fool when I fell asleep, trouble free and perfectly content.

I skipped out though the door to the common room the next morning to find Antony and Padma a little busy; snogging each other's faces off.

"People walk this way, you know." I reminded them, hoping Malfoy and I had looked a little more dignified than that the previous night, and they both broke apart with a jump; Antony blushing slightly, "It's all happening today, apparently."

"How come?" Antony asked, looking sheepishly happy as he draped an arm around Padma's shoulders. She grinned, looking a little pleased with herself.

"Oh, no reason," I shrugged as casually as I could muster; fighting the heat rising to my face with all the will I possessed, "Just saw some kissing going on earlier. I'm starving. Let's go."

"You go ahead, Meg." Antony called after me, "Terry's already down there."

I looked back at them briefly, and then worked out that the snogging was probably going to carry on for a little while longer,

"I don't even want to know." I muttered, smiling despite myself as I merrily made my way to the Great Hall; never having been this enthusiastic for a Tuesday morning.

Terry certainly looked confused as I practically leapt down next to him, accidentally catching my arm on the milk jug, which knocked the cereal packet over.

"You seem cheerful," He commented, scooping up a handful of spilled Cheery-Owls and stuffing them back in the box,

"I just had a good night's sleep." I supplied, settling down and pouring myself some orange juice. If Terry was a detective, or had a feeling something was being hidden, all he had to do was look at me for the next few minutes; because my eyes flicked, unconsciously and of their own accord, to the Slytherin table, trying to seek Malfoy out. I felt a plunge of disappointment when he wasn't there yet. Instead, I caught Pansy's eye and had to put up with a re-enactment of my arm breaking.

She probably wondered why I was smiling so smugly and triumphantly at her.

"Did you patch things up with Mulciber in the end?" Terry asked through a mouthful of sausages and fried tomatoes. That would have set me off giggling, I was in such a wonderful mood; but his mention of Mulciber brought all good thoughts to a crashing halt as if I had just been plunged into a lake of freezing cold water after lying in the warm sun.

"No." I finally said slowly, in a hollow voice, distractedly buttering a crumpet and feeling completely awful all of a sudden. "Not yet." I suddenly couldn't believe what I had done. I had _cheated_, which was something I thought I could never accuse myself of doing. At least, if we weren't talking about tests or exams. It sent a dull throb of anguish through me, and I realised I was disappointed with myself.

I mentally face-palmed the table, wondering if I should just go back to bed and avoid humans from now on.

But instead, Antony arrived with Padma and after a few minutes of uncomfortable conversation between the four of us (Terry and I overly conscious they had just been snogging each other senseless) I, along with Padma, were dragged off to Defence Against the Dark Arts by Antony, who claimed that he had heard that apparently this lesson was going to be great, and we needed really good seats.

I was trapped in the brooding swirling of my mind as I trailed along next to him, my attention not really needed as he and Padma were happy talking amongst themselves; my brain tearing between Malfoy and Mulciber. I should have stopped Malfoy kissing me, or at least yelled at him afterwards. I felt a sudden flare of anger, he knew about Mulciber, why couldn't he have just kept his lips to himself?

This line of thought was working rather well until we passed through the viaduct, birds swooping low over its iridescent surface; gliding lazily as they danced with their reflections, and I became aware that if I were back on that bridge, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Although perhaps we could leave Professor Snape out.

I was still wrestling with the problem of what to do with Mulciber when we arrived at the classroom and were met with a large amount of people queuing at the door to the classroom, even though the bell wasn't due to go off for another five minutes. It seemed Antony wasn't the only one who had heard the gossip that Lupin had a good lesson planned. Considering most of his lessons were pretty great on their own, I was expecting nothing less than a legendary hour coming up.

My heart shot to the regions of my throat when I saw Malfoy was there, leaning against the wall and looking at his feet. It suddenly became quite hard to walk in a straight line, and I was very aware that my arms were swinging in a very stupid way.

Whilst trying to decide which way to stand that would make me look less gormless, a person barged into me. Thinking it was just someone getting a little too excited to get into the classroom, I turned round to laugh at them.

I was distastefully surprised when I saw Pansy standing there; an expression of hatred all over her unattractive face.

"Why did you have his tie, Forester?" She snarled, her voice not as loud as usual. I had the feeling she wanted this conversation to be as subtle as possible, so naturally, I made my voice far louder than normal,

"Well, we were busy snogging and I stole it. Why, does he want it back?"

It was worth getting a little too near to the truth just to see her reaction; if I thought she had looked angry before when I had first mentioned the tie it was nothing to her expression now. I could feel a few eyes on us, and wondered vaguely if Malfoy had overheard me.

"You're just Mudblood scum, Forester," She sneered at me, "Nobody will ever like you."

"You seem to have forgotten I actually have friends," I commented, deliberately misinterpreting her, "And a lot of people like me after I gave you that haircut. It's looking hideous, by the way."

Pansy drew her wand with a speed I didn't think she was capable of, catching me totally off guard. It looked like my actions had finally caught up with me.

"_Tarantallegra_!" She screamed, her wand flashing towards me.

"_Melofors_!" I yelled a millisecond later once I had grasped what was happening, plucking the first spell from my head with no idea what it was going to do.

I was pleasantly surprised. Whilst my legs started a tap dance all of their own accord, which they could never have performed in normalised circumstances, Pansy's head was suddenly encased in a large pumpkin; and her shrieks set the accumulating audience laughing. I'll never know how she managed to conjure a stinging hex, causing it to slam painfully into my thigh, but she had certainly succeeded it if the sudden rush of pain in my leg was anything to go by.

We had captured the attention of the entire class by this point, and whilst I hobbled around, trying to get feeling back into my leg and stop both of them leaping around, I heard a voice that was definitely not Pansy's shout, "_Anteoculatia!"_

It seemed Antony had joined in, and when I looked up at him, my eyes streaming from the pain, he gave a small shrug,

"She was about to hex you again."

Professor Lupin came out let the class in a few moments later. What he found was probably not what he was expecting, as he raised a somewhat amused eyebrow that was probably the equivalent to a scream of surprise from a less calm person.

Half the people were cowering on the floor, as I was getting too angry to really aim properly, and as a result jinxes had been flying off the walls. My legs were still dancing happily without any control from myself, and Pansy was currently sporting a wonderful pair of antlers, with full credit to Antony, of course.

"Hospital wing, I think, girls." Lupin said mildly, "The rest of you, come inside, please."

"I'll help," Antony said hurriedly, running over and wrapping an arm around me, "Otherwise you'll never get there." I wasn't sure I liked the high amount of amusement in his tone.

Pansy had raced off down the corridor already, in floods of tears. I would have felt bad, but my leg was throbbing madly and I had the feeling we were now pretty much even. Completely unintentionally, I caught Malfoy's eye as Antony was forcing a path through the muttering crowd. He gave me the ghost of a genuine smile. But I'm sure I imagined the wink.

"I hope you can say that was worth it," Antony chuckled, half-carrying, half-dragging me down the stairs as the noise-level went up behind us. I guessed we had just caused a fair bit of gossip to be spread around the school.

"To see her sprout antlers?" I laughed, "Of course it wa-oops!" My legs had darted out from under me, and we ended up in a heap on the floor.

"What made her so angry, anyway? I didn't catch it." Antony asked, once we had stopped laughing and he had hauled me to back my feet,

"I think it was me implying that I had kissed Malfoy," I shrugged dismissively, "I think she got a little jealous."

"I'll say. _Why_ would you kiss _Malfoy_ anyway?" Antony snorted, seeming revolted at the very idea of anyone wanting to do so. I hurriedly looked at a portrait in pretend fascination so he wouldn't see the guilty look on my face,

"I know," I said in a falsely agreeing tone, "A totally gross prospect."

I hadn't expected to see Madame Pomfrey quite so soon after my Quidditch incident, and I think she was feeling the same the same thing.

"You'll be the one who gave Miss Parkinson antlers, then?" She asked, ushering me over to a bed (with some difficulty. My legs still wanted to run in two separate directions) "I might have known you were a troublemaker."

I decided to leave out it was actually Antony who had caused the antlers, and he shot me a thankful look as Madame Pomfrey handed me what turned out to be a hideous tasting potion, that nevertheless restored my legs to their normal, less than average athletic ability.

"What these students are like," Madame Pomfrey was muttering as we timidly left once all tap dancing tendencies had worn off, "Hexing each other left, right and centre. As if I don't have enough serious problems to deal with."

"Well she doesn't have anything else to do," I said the moment I was dead sure we were out of earshot, "She works in a _school_."

It turned out I was right about my speculation that the exchange between Pansy and I would become gossip. By lunchtime, I had already been high-fived by Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, and when I entered the Great Hall I was ambushed by a few Gryffindors, all wanting me to re-enact exactly how I had jinxed a Slytherin. Apparently cutting Pansy's hair branded me a psychopath, but putting a pumpkin on her head made me a hero. I really didn't understand it, either.

"Thanks," I said hurriedly, noticing that Mclaggen was heading curiously in our direction, "But if you don't move I'll hex you too."

"Terry's being disapproving," Antony informed me once I had escaped my fan club, "He reckons I should have given Parkinson a red nose as well."

"I actually said save it for next time," Terry laughed, turning the page of _Arthimancy: Magical Properties and Constructing Charts_. I was surprised he was still awake. "I heard you missed a great lesson, by they way. Padma was saying Lupin got the boggart out again."

"No!" Howled Antony, looking devastated, "I never had a go last time!"

I was secretly glad. I couldn't have said what I was afraid of at the moment in time, what with Malfoy's mission, and You Know Who stronger than ever, if the _Daily Prophet_ was anything to go by. Maybe it was just a giant jellyfish.

"Meg,"

I turned round at the voice, and didn't bother to hide my anger as Mulciber looked back at me; his face as serious as ever.

"Not ignoring me anymore? Have you come to berate me for not showing up on Saturday?" I asked heatedly, "Because I was incarcerated in the hospital wing being force-fed what I'm pretty sure was poison, by the way."

His face remained as impassive as ever, and I felt a knot of guilt winding in my stomach as I recalled I didn't really have any business attacking him for being distant when I had been the one going off and making out with Malfoy. And still, there was no feeling of regret there; only me feeling confused and extremely bad for Mulciber.

"I didn't know." Mulciber finally said, his husky voice just the same as it had always been, "But I didn't come over here to berate you. I just wanted to talk. We haven't seen much of each other these past few weeks, which is a bit ridiculous really."

"Tell me about it," I remarked dryly, and Mulciber's brows lowered,

"I seem to recall you were the one avoiding me at first." He stated darkly,

"And I seem to recall you tried to kiss me," I replied hotly.

"Oh look, Terry," Antony said with a very brave attempt at interest, "They've got_ mashed potatoes_ at that end of the table!"

"So they have," Terry noted, scrambling to stuff his book back in his bag, "Let's go!"

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or furious that they'd abandoned me, but I turned back to Mulciber, tossing my hair irritably,

"Look, I'm sorry acted so weird, but I wasn't expecting it. Plus-"

"You just didn't want to kiss me," Mulciber finished, sinking down onto the bench beside me. I blinked. That hadn't been what I was going to say at all, but it had still hit a nail on its head, albeit a stray one. "I sometimes got the feeling that you agreed to go out with me because we were friends, Meg. You didn't really fancy me, did you?"

"Urm." I forced myself to look up from the table of food I had determinedly been studying and into Mulciber's dark eyes. They were so different from Malfoy's pale ones. "No. I liked you, but...no."

"I wish you'd have just said that." He sighed, and I felt horrible. "Shall we go back to that then? Just friends?"

I nodded, my toes curled with how awful I felt, not at all comforted by the kind smile Mulciber gave me before walking away. He could suggest friendship all he liked, but I got the feeling he wouldn't want to talk to me much for a while. I wish he had been as indifferent about our relationship as I had been.

Terry and Antony edged back once they saw the conversation was over; settling either side of me, not really needing to bother with words. I found their silence far more comforting, really, and I stayed focused on my food for the rest of the lunch hour, not daring to even glance in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Of course I felt awful that I had led Mulciber on so badly; when really, he was a pretty lovely person. But at the same time (and I hated myself for it) I felt a small twinge of relief that he had been the one to end it. Yes, that was extremely cowardly, but the awful feeling of guilt that had been digging into my chest and constricting the initial happiness kissing Malfoy had given me was now lessened slightly.

Now I just had one thing to worry about, and that was how Malfoy would behave in Potions tomorrow with me sitting next to him.

Something told me I was going to need a lot of coffee again.

It turned out I was mistaken. And I was rather happy to find that out.

I edged apprehensively into the dungeons that afternoon, having spent the majority of the morning imagining horrible scenarios where Malfoy ignored me or made cruel jokes at my expense.

I didn't realise how much I had been dreading this possibility until he gave me that same, genuine smile I had seen when Antony had given Pansy's antlers. Unfortunately, that story had become rather distorted throughout the course of the day, and now most people were under the impression that I had turned her into a moose there and then. But it was a very human Pansy who glowered at me over Draco's shoulder as I gave him a nervous smile back.

"So how many points did Snape award you for walking the corridors Monday night?" I asked, trying to sound like my normal self as I took my set of scales out my bag and ignoring the fact my heart was thumping wildly, just as Snape interrupted with,

"You will just be needing quills and parchment today; seeing as so many of you are incapable of brewing this week's set of potions; we'll be studying the theory instead. Longbottom, hand these books out. Quickly, boy! We haven't got all day!"

Whilst Neville was preoccupied with dropping half the textbooks in his haste to get away from Snape, I sneaked another look at Malfoy. He still looked as tired and strained as he had been, which send a nasty pound of reality through me, but I cast it aside for the moment; instead looking at the exact shape of his profile; and the precise shade of his eyes, wondering why I had never thought him good looking before.

"What?" He asked, leaning close to me to whisper it and I realised with amusement that he was echoing what he had said the last time I had been staring at his face in Potions class, although he seemed a lot less irritable this time. That lesson seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Just looking." I replied in an offhand voice, failing to hide my playful smile and accepted the textbook that Neville's trembling hand passed me, waving it in front of Malfoy's face, "Want to share?"

"I don't think I have a choice, Forester."

"Then embrace the Muggle perfume, _Malfoy_."

"I think maybe I quite like it after all."

I met his gaze briefly, and felt an odd squirming in my chest as his lips curled into a soft smile that wasn't sneering in the slightest. And wow, did I like it.

I decided that my past self was a complete idiot for objecting to sitting next to Draco Malfoy in Potions class. Throughout the course of the lesson, in between the jokes I insisted on throwing at him, and the sarcastic manner in which he deflected them, with a look in his eyes that I had seen the night he had kissed me, I decided that there was hardly anywhere else I would rather be.

Except, maybe, that bridge.


	26. Chapter 26

**Bleurgh mental blocks bleurgh. I hope I got this up in time for you to read when you got back from school Lixsabell! And thanks again for all the reviews I got for the last chapter- seriously you guys are so lovely! **

**I got a bit serious in the chapter. I know, I'm scared too.**

**Wherein eavesdropping turns to shoe dropping and I do a spot of confrontation.**

I kind of had the feeling I was living someone else's life for the next week or so. Admittedly, someone who had a very, very nice life indeed.

To an outsider, I suppose they would view Malfoy and I's exchanges as being a little less hostile than usual, but still full of the same teasing and mockery that had occupied our conversations since the third year when I had accidentally fallen on him.

But I saw the undercurrent in his eyes, or the genuine smile he gave me when I'd said something particularly stupid. And I doubted he missed the blood rushing to my cheeks whenever he did so, or the flirty grins he received in return. It felt so great to swap these little snippets of feelings with him, and at the same time, so unequivocally right. I'd never been this comfortable around Mulciber, and here I was sure of the thing that I had never been certain of with Mulciber. I liked Malfoy. I mean, _really_ liked him.

So much so that I was seriously considering walking the corridors every night in the hope that I may just meet him again. The desire to wait in the Room of Requirement was becoming surprisingly tempting, and I found it amusing that I had considered doing this once before, but with an entirely different motive in mind.

If Terry and Antony were curious as to why I emerged from Potions class looking thrilled, they didn't show it, either. I was starting to think I was sneakier than I had first thought. Somehow I thought it would be best to keep this sudden turnaround of emotions quiet. Terry might have understood Mulciber and I, but I think me admitting serious feelings for the Slytherin Prince himself may push things over the edge.

I had escaped out of History of Magic slightly early on a late Thursday morning, feigning a headache with the more tangible intention of escaping before my brain turned to mush. There was nothing more distracting from a game of hangman with Antony than the sound of Professor Binn's chalky voice droning on about Goblin wars for sixty minutes. Which, I think the whole school had decided, was far too long a time.

Up ahead the corridor leading towards the Grand Staircase was deserted; at least as far as I could tell. There were a series of alcoves and recesses that made it hard to tell if anyone was sitting there; hiding from their lesson. I certainly had used this trick when Potions was particularly dreadful back in the first year.

I ambled along leisurely, peering out at the glimpses of the mountains through the grand arched castle windows, and wondering what was for lunch.

"Let me _help_ you Draco."

The voice made me freeze in place, and, instinctively I darted behind a pillar without thinking; coming face to face with myself due to the mirror that hung on the opposite side; its surface speckled and dusty from the glassless windows blowing elements at it over the years. I looked back at my face; my blue eyes wide as my heart began to hammer madly in my chest as I strained my ears to hear the voices somewhere down the corridor.

That was Snape's voice. And there was only one person in the world that I knew who had lost out on the name game and was called Draco. I studied the excited blush on my oval face and decided I was in serious danger of turning into a Pansy.

"I don't want your help!" Malfoy's voice was hoarse with anger, "Will you stop asking me? I'm not telling you anything!"

"You can't do this by yourself, Drac-"

"Yeah?" The sneer crept its way back into Malfoy's voice, and my reflection's mouth flickered into a small smile despite myself, "Well I've nearly fixed it, so it looks like I can do it alone after all, doesn't it? And the last thing I need it _you_ butting in now!"

"Your mother asked me to look out for you-"

"She sent me a letter," Malfoy snorted, "Saying get help _when_ I need it, like it's an avoidable thing. But I can do it _alone_. Why can't any of you understand that?"

I felt a rush of realisation, seeing in the corner of my mind Draco ripping up that letter all the way back in October. I don't think I'd ever been quieter in my entire life as I stood in that corridor, trying to drown out every sound but the pair of voices metres away.

"You have a deadline, Draco." Snape's voice was as icy as normal now, no attempts at kindness being used. He spoke softly; and my ears strained to catch his words, "Do you see yourself finishing the task before the summer? Because I doubt the Dark Lord would understand if you do not."

"I told you!" Malfoy hissed, the hoarse tone back, as if he were under a great deal of strain, "I'm nearly finished! So you can tell him that then can't you?"

"Dear, dear," Slytherins, I thought, _honestly_. They could go from kind to sneering in the space of a second, "Are we having second thoughts about the chosen path, Draco?"

"No! It's not my fault -"

"Keep your voice down!" Snape snapped, his harsh tone cutting across Malfoy's voice, which had been travelling easily down to my hiding spot.

"-It's not my fault you keep getting rid of all the people who could help me." Malfoy repeated heedlessly, sounding furious, "You keep putting them in detention-"

"You mean Crabbe and Goyle? Forgive me, Draco, they do not seem like, ah, _useful_ assets. I do hope you haven't told them what you're up to."

"Of course I haven't!"

"But somebody does know, don't they, Draco?"

"How dare you poke around in my mind!" Malfoy snapped, "That's none of your business!"

That confused me. As far as I knew Snape was not a mind-reader. That would just be an even more unfair advantage in his quest to destroy all happiness. And I was in big trouble if he could; it would explain why he didn't like me much.

"Who knows? That girl? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but that certainly didn't look like you fulfilling the deed that the Dark Lord set when I arrived."

My heart gave an uncomfortable lurch at the mention of what I could only assume was me. Goodness knows life was a little mucked up when my hated Potions teacher and a boy I had disliked intensely for several years were now discussing my kissing activities.

"Nobody knows, ok? Now just back off and leave me alone!"

"I'm trying to help you-"

"You've been saying that since Christmas!" Malfoy jeered, "I think it's time to accept that you won't share my glory! It's my task, and I won't fail!"

I heard hurried footsteps and realised with a swoop of horror they were coming in my direction. I pressed myself as firmly to the wall as possible, and then remembered that the mirror facing the direction Malfoy was coming in, and was hardly going to make things easier in remaining undetected.

Casting a panicked look to my left, I saw that the windows opened out onto a ledge, before the walls spiralled down to a rough courtyard a few floors below.

I flicked a quick glance at my reflection, which sent a grimace back.

I had just scrambled out of the window when Malfoy stalked past; his footsteps hurried. I had ducked down; unfortunately overly conscious that the ledge was only a metre wide and it was really, quite a long fall.

I stayed there as long as I dared, until I prayed that Snape had moved off towards his classroom once more, and slowly, I got shakily to my feet,

"Don't fall and die, don't fall and die," I whispered, cautiously swinging a leg through the window, and hopping as gracefully as I could muster back through onto more solid and less perilous ground.

As I did so, I caught my shoe on the sill, and focusing more on staying upright, I watched, unamused, as it slipped from my sock and hit the ledge, bouncing off towards the courtyard far below it.

"Wonderful." I muttered, peering out the window to gage exactly where the courtyard was.

I headed off to reclaim the item of lost clothing, my mind not really on it, but more on what I had just heard. It seemed every fact I discovered about Malfoy's dealings this year was more of a bombshell than the last one. He was working for the Dark Lord, he had just said he was trying to fix something. Something that had made ghosts disappear.

I let out a noise of pent up frustration, causing a painting of a group of monks to tut me.

I'd been here before. I'd spent far too long going round in circles with these same thoughts. I was pretty sure I was losing the remaining sanity I had.

I upped my pace, hoping that would put my brain into gear as I worked savagely to try and attain some new ideas from what I had overheard.

Snape was working with Malfoy, or at least, pretending to. He had said Malfoy had a deadline in the form of the start of summer, and Malfoy had said he was fixing something, most likely that nameless object. I turned it over as I hurried down a flight of stairs, swinging round to pace down a deserted corridor. What if he wanted to vanish more than just ghosts? What about humans?

I almost laughed at that. Goodness knows I could do with something like that.

I decided the biggest information I had gauged from that session of eavesdropping was Snape being involved in this rather twisted mission Malfoy had.

I'd certainly seen enough of Malfoy in Potions over the years to know that Snape was his favourite teacher, or at least the one he considered the most useful to suck up to. To hear him talking to him like he just had was probably only grazing the surface of how desperate he was to finish this supposed job alone. The way Snape had been talking hinted he was in on the secret too... but surely Dumbledore would know if one of his teachers was in contact with You Know Who? It was practically branding Snape a Death Eater, and I was sure under his callous, horrible attitude that he was one of the good guys. Surely.

I thought back to the rat brain pickling I had been made to do again in my detention for sneaking about at night and considered re-thinking that.

There was a distance clattering of doors opening and muffled voices shouting and laughing and, casting a look at the watch on my wrist that was usually so ignored, I realised it was lunchtime.

I raced down the corridors before they got too crowded, emerging out into the courtyard I had worked out as being where my shoe had fallen, and sure enough, there lay my shoe, abandoned in the grass.

I wasn't the only person who had noticed its absence from my foot. As I got closer, I saw Antony and Terry walking past, Terry looking at the shoe with a frown as if critical of people who left stuff lying around. I swallowed a grin as I marched over and snatched it up.

"Hi, guys." I said conversationally, working the shoe back on my foot. They both looked rather blankly at me.

"Why is your shoe lying on the ground?" Terry finally asked.

"Uh... well," I said, deciding on the almost truth, "I was hiding from Malfoy, if I'm honest."

"You were hiding..." Terry trailed off as he looked up and caught sight of the narrow ledge running around the courtyard. Understanding flickered in his eyes, mixed with pained amusement. "Well, that's not the weirdest thing I've heard from you, I suppose. Why didn't you just use a Summoning Charm?"

"I..." I looked at him in exasperation, not quite knowing what to say to that. "Shut up."

With no Potions to go to that day and little other opportunity to talk to Malfoy presenting itself, I spent the rest of the day rather restless, my mind still hiding in that corridor and listening to Snape and Malfoy arguing. It was so frustrating at how much I knew about it, and at the same time so little. I picked up on an earlier thought, which was I was fairly certain the answer was staring me in the face.

In the common room later, after bagging some of the better seats nearer the fire (British summers, I ask you) I decided to finally get a few of the things confusing me off my chest, with the aim of at least confusing someone else too.

"Is it possible to read someone's mind, Terry?" I asked in a cavalier manner, leaning back in the chair as if it was a cool idea that had just dawned on me and expecting a 'no, stop being stupid' kind of answer.

I therefore sat up with a jerk in surprise when he looked up from the newspaper and said in a matter of fact voice,

"Yes of course. It takes a bit of training though."

"What?" I spluttered, taken aback, "I...how?"

"It's called Legilimency." Terry continued, frowning thoughtfully as he folded the paper up, "I was talking to Professor Vector about it the other day. You can extract memories and emotions from the person. I suppose it's not technically mind reading; that's more of a Muggle view."

"That would be so cool." Antony sighed, pushing the essay he had been writing away and rubbing his eyes, "Think of how easy exams would become. You just copy what the person next to you is writing!"

"You're screwed if you're placed next to Crabbe though." I added and he sniggered appreciatively. Terry however, just looked at us pityingly.

"You can't just perform Legilimency like that," He said patiently, "The person needs to be in a vulnerable state of mind. I think you need to maintain eye contact, or something."

"Oh." I said, pretending to be extremely disappointed whilst my mind threw me back in that corridor, listening to Malfoy accuse Snape of poking around in his mind. That made a bit more sense now. It also, definitely explained why Snape hated me. I was always in a vulnerable mental state in Potions with being surrounded by Slytherins.

Happy at having at least one mystery question answered, I bravely ploughed forth with another.

"Could an object have caused the ghosts to vanish, Terry?" I said, shuffling down and resting my head on a pillow,

"An object?" I felt a bit disappointed at the note of blankness in his voice, "I don't see how."

I suppose it was the Ravenclaw in him that didn't dismiss the matter now it was resolved. From the sight of him chewing his lip thoughtfully, I supposed it bothered him as much as it did me. But perhaps slightly less so.

"The Grey Lady reckoned it was an object." I continued, raising my foot in the air to examine my fluffy sock. There were worn down a bit now from all my late night walking. "And Luna did too."

"I did, didn't I?" Said the floaty voice of Luna Lovegood, and a second later I was reshuffling so Luna could sit on the arm of the chair.

"What sort of object?" Antony asked, looking rather lost. It made a nice change.

"Oh, I don't know really," Luna said brightly, "It could be anything. Maybe, a Vanishing Cabinet, or something."

Terry snorted a trifle rudely,

"No Vanishing Cabinet could do that."

"Unless it's been doctored," Antony chimed in, and I realised with a groan that I had provoked a big Ravenclaw debate that would probably go on until the end of time. Or dawn if I was lucky.

"I'm going to bed." I muttered, flinging my pillow aside as Antony and Terry began to discuss the finer workings of Vanishing Cabinets. I think my head would have exploded if I had hung around much longer.

Although able to resist the temptation of sneaking out in the middle of the night to the Room of Requirement, when I was coming out of Charms the next day and saw Malfoy walking alone, the enticement became far too much.

"You go on," I told Terry, nodding in Malfoy's direction "I've got some great insults I need to put to the test."

"He's a prefect," Terry said warningly as I walked away in the most cavalier way I could manage, trying to disguise the fact that my heart was racing wildly. It seemed illogical that I should be this worried about meeting Malfoy head-on, as after mulling the thoughts that had occupied my head all yesterday, I had decided on a line of attack that was confrontation with the person, who in my mind, was responsible for everything.

I took a deep breath as I walked along behind him, surprised at the level of anxiety now coursing through my body. I guess a very large part of me had really enjoyed the Malfoy who gave me genuine smiles in such a way that I longed to kiss him again. And I didn't want to upset that, which was a totally cowardly reason to turn around right now. But it was time to prioritise. Potential dark plot versus me wanting to snog Malfoy's face off. Definitely tricky, without even a hint of sarcasm.

I waited until he had turned down a less busy corridor before I opened my mouth.

"Draco."

The voice that came from my lips was so pathetic that for a second I wondered if someone else had spoken.

But as Malfoy wheeled round to stare at me and paused in surprise, I assumed it had been me after all.

"What is it?" He asked tiredly, running a finger over his eyelid. How could he possibly be looking more exhausted than ever? He should be dead by the looks of him. I tried to swallow the lurch of sympathy in my heart and remember what it was I wanted to say.

"Well," I tested a few sentences in my brain, before hesitantly continuing, "I kind of overheard you and Snape yesterday."

"What?" He asked sharply, and I had the feeling I now had his full and undivided attention.

"You didn't really say anything I hadn't worked out for myself about you, of course." I continued, wringing my hands uncomfortably, "But you're kind of making this whole situation quite hard for me to ignore."

"I haven't told you to ignore it, Forester." He said, and I felt a rush of distress that the apparent amusement he had poured into saying my surname these past few days was now gone, "What point are you trying to make?"

"I just want to know what you're doing!" I pleaded, as Malfoy exhaled in annoyance, looking up the corridor as if wanting to escape, "If I knew I could-"

"Help?" Malfoy cut me off, looking down at me, his eyebrow rising slightly, "Trust me, Meg, you wouldn't want to."

"Why?" I demanded, "What are you doing? Come on, Malfoy, what is You Know Who making you do? What are you fixing?"

He hesitated yet again, so I bit my lip, trying a new tactic,

"Ok, fine," I said, sighing heavily, "Just answer me one question. Are you planning on hurting someone?"

He looked down at me, and I started slightly at the look in his eyes. That frightened glance was back; and beneath it, it looked like hopelessness. It was unnerving to look at, and despite myself, I took a step back.

"Never mind," I whispered, my voice catching slightly, as I continued to look at the desperation on his face, "I think that pretty much answered it."

I looked at him for as long as I dared, until I turned away, hurrying along the corridor with absolutely no idea where I was headed.

Any clue as to what he was up to now seemed a little trivial now I knew someone was going to end up hurt if he succeeded. Perhaps Ron and Katie had somehow been linked to him, but I suddenly couldn't bring myself to think about it any longer. I had to stop wasting my thoughts on this. Like Snape had said, he had chosen a path. And for once in my life, I completely agreed with him.

Looking forward to Potions was a thing of the past as I felt my hair growing frizzy and my temper rising during the hour of it we had after lunch.

I decided to focus my undivided attention on my attempt at the Draught of Peace today, so that in my mind there was no room to dwell on anything except when to put the right amount of newt's blood in, or how to cut up daisy root properly.

Whenever my brain rebelled and my eyes grazed the figure working alongside me, I got the impression Malfoy was working up the courage to try and tell me something. Although, whenever he opened his mouth, I legged it to the store cupboard, which in the end actually caused Snape to grow suspicious and tell me off. Honestly, even when I was trying my hardest to do my best I got scolded.

"You should have completed your potions by now," Snape told the class fifteen minutes towards the end, "Clear up then look at the question on page 26 of _Advanced Potion Making_."

A few people shifted restlessly at this. Nobody wanted to spend about ten minutes doing that. It was nice to imagine a nicer teacher would have let the class out early. But obviously not Snape.

I settled myself down to determinedly stare at the pages of _Advanced Potion Making_, except my mind was not focused on page 26 at all. Instead, the corner of my eye was looking at Malfoy; taking in the grey fabric of his jumper, and listening to the quiet sound of him breathing.

I think he seemed to clue in after I had been staring at the page and doing nothing for five solid minutes.

"Who would have thought," He said in an undertone that wasn't at all unkind, and easily undetectable for those sitting further away, "That the one person to work out something was up and actually care was a Ravenclaw who would never let me do anything without mocking it?"

"I can hardly believe it myself." I agreed glumly, now staring at the desk, "I wish I didn't know, to be honest."

"I'm glad you do, Forester."

A lot of my resolve evaporated slightly as looked at him and saw the intensity that he was looking at me with. It was very hard to get the next words out,

"I can't let people get hurt when I know it's being planned," I whispered hoarsely, "I'll have to tell someone."

"I don't have a choice," He said, his voice harsh again, "I _have_ to do this."

I was at a loss over what to say to that. To me, it was pretty clear he did have a choice; and I wanted him to choose not to do whatever he was doing. However, that look of fear and hopelessness I kept seeing in him; that was not the look of a person happy with what was going on.

Maybe he needed someone to help him; and in a way, protect him from himself. For the first time, I did seriously think about going to tell Dumbledore my suspicions and just risk me making a fool out of myself. I doubted anything I could say would make things much better, as I had only caught glimpses of what was going on. But surely, Dumbledore could help? I had always felt safe when he looked out across the hall with those piercing blue eyes of his.

This thought brought a glimmer of hope to my chest, and I turned to Malfoy to give him a small smile.

Feigning peering at his textbook, I leant across. Under the desk, my hand found his, my fingers twining around his cold skin. Despite the fact my brain had been enduring a rather serious string of thoughts this past hour, a little part of me really wanted Pansy to look over and see exactly what was going on. I think the look of horror on her face would have made me a lot happier.

I didn't know if I had planned on saying anything before I grabbed his hand. But the contact with his skin had knocked out the majority of my more reasonable thoughts. And when he squeezed my hand in reply the only thing that brought me back down to earth was Snape announcing the end of the lesson.

"That was horrible," Terry muttered coming over to me as I dumped my brass scales in my bag.

"Mm." I said in reply, not agreeing at all as I kept my eyes on Malfoy, who sent me the ghost of a smirk before walking past me, his shoulder brushing past mine.

"See you later, Forester." He murmured in my ear; and I fought hard against blushing as his breath tickled my hair.

I let Terry keep up an account of why the lesson had been horrible as we headed towards our next lesson, me laughing in all the right places whilst I turned a plan over in my mind.

Tonight, I would go and find Dumbledore and tell him everything I had overheard or guessed about Malfoy this year. I could leave him to think of it what he wanted, but I would have achieved what I had partially wanted. A clear conscience. Maybe then Dumbledore could achieve the other thing I desired.

To help Draco Malfoy, and restore him to just being the boy who smirked and sneered and looked at me in a way that I had started to love. He could take away that fear and hopelessness and leave him as the boy that I had grown to really quite like.

It was odd how a small event could change a lot. But looking back on it, the kiss on the bridge hadn't really been small at all. In fact, it was probably one of the landmarks of my life.

I was fairly sure that was a good thing too.


	27. Chapter 27

**I just realised how often I say the word lovely. I'll try and stop. But thank you for all the pleasant reviews all the same :P I'm glad you are all enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it!**

**My sister got her Pottermore email... we had a laugh at Ollivanders- immature wand jokes will never get old.**

**Wherein everything can go wrong. And, typically, does.**

"If I see one more History of Magic essay," Antony said in the common room that evening, "I am going to explode."

"So long as you do it quietly," Terry muttered from his armchair where he was starting revision for the end of term exams taking place in two weeks time.

It was just after dinner, and everyone had retreated to their dormitories to work on homework or play games; ignoring the teacher's warnings of the needs to revise. All except for him, evidently.

"Stop doing that, Terry," I said, nodding towards the pile of books he had in front of him, "You're putting us to shame."

"There are several solutions to that," Terry said with a grin, looking up at me, "Where you planning on doing anything this evening?"

"Yes." I said shortly, not trusting myself with a longer sentence which could easily turn into, yes, I'm sneaking out to tell the headmaster that the boy I really quite fancy is plotting on mauling someone.

"Exploding snap, Meg?" Antony asked casually, the essay apparently forgotten.

"I'm going up." Terry said wearily, waving his wand so his books sprung up to follow him as he headed up the boy's staircases.

"I really should start revising soon." Antony commented happily as he dug his card pack from his bag, lobbing the essay carelessly on the floor. I wondered if he would notice if I stole it and wrote my name on it.

"That's what I say every year, Antony." I fidgeted restlessly as I my eyes landed on the door. The want to go and get this over with was extremely consuming. "Actually, I was just going to take a quick walk. I'll be back in a bit."

I sprung from the chair with the sudden decisiveness, a thrill of exhilaration travelling through me, the hope of going to set everything straight overpowering.

"But it's after hours!" Antony called after me as I dashed for the door, "You at least need me to go with you!"

"Considering I've done it plenty of times without a prefect," I said, pausing to comment at the doorway, a small smile on my face at his look of indignation, "I highly doubt your presence will make much difference if I _do_ get caught."

I managed to get to the bottom of the stairs; my heart pounding, before I heard someone call my name again. I paused, fighting the eagerness to get going, and waited extremely patiently for Terry to sprint into sight; his face pale and concerned.

"Now this is just silly," I informed him, "I actually _can_ take care of myself. I am practically a grown up in theory. I'll be of age in next month-"

"Did you keep your DA coin that Harry gave us last year?" Terry asked instantly, tossing my words aside,

"Huh?" I asked stupidly, not having expected this.

"These," He held a Galleon coin up; it's gleaming surface sparkling in the candlelight.

"I lost that _ages_ ago," I admitted, a trifle dismissively. After all, I really had somewhere to be.

"You remember they were put under the Protean Charm? And-"

"I really don't have time for clever talk, Terry."

"Hear me out, will you? They warmed up whenever they wanted our attention, and now..."

He trailed off to dump the coin in my hand. I started when the coin I had expected to be cool came close to burning my skin.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, more in surprise than pain, thrusting it back at him, "Do you think Harry wants your attention?"

"_Our_ attention," Terry amended, still looking worried, "You were in the DA too. And yes, I think he probably does."

"Well, you and Antony go find him. But I have to go find someone else."

"What do you have to do that could be so important?"

"It's kind of a secret..." I trailed off as I looked at his expression, which was a mixture between being hurt and a little bit infuriated,

"You've been a bit strange at the moment," He finally commented, "I wouldn't mind, but you seem a little bit... I don't know, torn, I guess. Do you want to tell me about it?"

A felt a surge of fondness at his words of concern, and the desire to scoop him into a big friendly hug was swallowed with difficulty. Somehow, I doubt he would be in the mood.

"It's a little complicated," I sighed, leaning against the window; listening to the faint patter of raindrops that were beginning to fall onto the pane. I think summer was a little delayed this year. Typical. "And I can't tell you outright."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." Oh lord, I sounded exactly like Malfoy had. Now I appreciated how hard it was to try and avoid straight answers, "I promised I wouldn't tell."

"Is it to do with Mulciber?"

"Mulciber?" I asked blankly, momentarily sidetracked, "Oh no, not at all." I felt a surge of guilt that he hadn't even crossed my mind recently, but I shrugged it off. I think I had greater things to deal with than an ex-boyfriend right now.

Terry was still looking at me questioningly, and I felt now was a good time to cut it short. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if he had mastered Legilimency himself.

"I'll tell you later," I finally said, patting him on the arm with a smile, "I promise."

I heard him give an exclamation of frustration as I tore off down the corridor, but I resisted the urge of breaking to apologise to him.

I had only been to Dumbledore's study once when I had been caught up in a rather unfortunate duelling incident back in the third year. Of which I had been entirely innocent, of course. I vaguely remembered where it was situated, being frantically worried at the time that I would be yelled at, and trying to memorise my escape route. Instead, I had received a single detention, a sherbet lemon and was told not to jinx Malfoy again. I guess somewhere along the line I had forgotten that instruction.

Walking along to the first floor, I realised how many of my Hogwarts memories actually centred around Draco Malfoy. Particularly this year. I don't think I should ever tell him how at the heart of my thoughts he had been these past few months.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the person I had just been thinking about rounded a corner ahead of me, his face drawn and walking with the air of someone who was up to no good. It was so nice to have a change in these things, I thought dryly.

"Where are you going, Draco?"

Beneath his drained features, I saw a glint of excitement in his grey eyes; something that somehow sent a thrill of foreboding to my chest as he turned round to face me.

"I think you can guess, Forester," He said softly, evidently debating about turning around again. I hurried up to him, that knot of unexplained fear still ripe in my chest.

"Don't go," I said firmly, ignoring the undercurrent of desperation in my voice, "Please, don't go."

"I have to." He said, his voice nowhere near as downbeat as normal when I made him discuss his dead-ended options with me, which made me wonder what had changed. Was he near to fixing the mysterious item? I shuddered, "Haven't you worked it out yet, Meg? How many times do I have to say I have no choice?"

"Why?" I demanded furiously, uneasiness making me angry, "Are you going to die or spontaneously combust if you don't?"

Of course I hadn't been serious, but Malfoy looked at me, a little part amused, but mostly pitifully despondent, and I realised I had hit the mark with a solid bullseye. Or at least with the death part. I doubted the spontaneously combusting came anywhere close to the mark.

"Yes." He finally said quietly, looking at me closely.

I stood motionless for a long time, my brain pounding dully as I absorbed that. Of course, how could I be so thick? How long had that been staring me in the face? It should have been obvious; if he failed with this task, Voldemort would kill him. The fact that Malfoy wasn't going to give up suddenly seemed more real than ever; and I wondered how this evil wizard had so easily corrupted one of the safest and warmest places in the world.

"This is a terrible mess." I finally observed, trying to sound light-hearted, but my voice was not quite as strong as I was hoping it would be. It shook rather pathetically.

"I'm glad you agree, Forester." Malfoy said in a weak voice, "But I have to go. I'll see you later."

"Why can't we go to Dumbledore?" I demanded, my voice rising once more, "Why can't we ask him for help?"

"You really think that would work?" He asked, his laughter lines, or sneer lines I guess, creasing into existence, "I'm not the only one being threatened with death if I...if I fail."

I had looked away briefly after I had seen him sneering, but at those last few words I looked back into his eyes. It wasn't what he said, which was really just confirming a sneaking thought I had had in the back of my mind when he had hinted of what kind of pressure he was under, but it was his tone. There was a wavering note as he forced the words out, as if he were stretched to breaking point. I took at the shadows under his eyes, and the pale, sickly looking colour of his skin, and realised that he probably was.

I never thought I would feel pity for Draco Malfoy, but there was no other word for what was surging through me, making my heart ache.

"You make it really hard for people to help you, you know?" I said with a small smile, pretending to be amused as I looked down at my feet.

"I like that you try anyway."

"That's the kind of person I like to be, I suppose."

We glanced at each other at the same time, and a part of me that I had suppressed fairly well until this point suddenly flared to life as I caught his eye. That part spurred my legs into movement, and saw me marching over to him, where I placed my hands on his shoulders and, rolling up onto tiptoes, I kissed him lightly on the lips.

Sure it wasn't quite the heavy make out session from the bridge, but there was a tenderness as his body finally relaxed and he pulled me closer that I liked just as much. It felt oddly safe there in his arms as he held me, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest like a soothing mantra that told me he was still here.

I felt caught in a state of ambivalence as I pulled away, knowing the brief lapse in my self-control had solved absolutely nothing, but feeling a hell of a lot better regardless.

"Get up to your common room," Draco said quietly, his eyes guarded once more as he looked down at me, "Please."

I noticed it was now him pleading, and decided I would listen to him. Or at least, pretend to.

"Fine." I said in a tone that suggested I was simply surrendering to save argument time.

Draco looked at me for a moment, seeming suspicious, but I when I raised my eyebrows in a questioning manner he gave a small smile that didn't look the least bit happy.

"You really haven't made this easy." He whispered huskily, and I frowned, half wondering if he was musing to himself. Goodness knows I did it enough myself, "I'll see you later, Meg."

Somehow, when he said that, I wasn't overly sure he had meant it. I stayed frozen in place as he turned and walked away, in the direction of the seventh floor, no doubt. I felt slightly encased in the stab of dread that had hit me with his warning to go and hide. What was he doing? It made the idea that had come to me now appear all the more necessary.

I watched Malfoy vanish round a corner, waiting a full ten seconds before moving my legs into gear; sprinting in the complete opposite direction to the Ravenclaw common room. Malfoy may have scoffed at talking to Dumbledore, but there was no way I was ruling out the best option I had until I had tried.

I paused when I got to the ugly stone gargoyle that I had remembered traipsing through last time, after a few Slytherins and I were sprouting cauliflowers from our ears three years ago. Sometimes I wish I could remember the combination of jinxes that had caused that.

"Er." I told the gargoyle, trying vainly to remember the password. I was confident it had been some type of confectionary, if my memory was anything to go by; regardless of the fact that it probably wasn't as it had never proved much use in classes or examinations. "Peppermint toads?"

I was sure the gargoyle gave a snort.

"Fizzing Whizbees." I tried again, "Chocolate frogs? Ice Mice. Oh come on, it's an emergency!"

The gargoyle blinked at me.

"What is it with inanimate objects and their attitudes in this place?" I said huffily, before letting my anger get the better of me, "If you don't open right now, I'm going to give you a reason to be grumpy!"

"Miss Forester, why on earth are you yelling at that gargoyle?"

I spun around to find Professor McGonagall looking at me from over her horn rimmed glasses, her lips thin with disapproval,

"I wanted to see Professor Dumbledore, professor" I said a little breathlessly, "But I can't-"

"Professor Dumbledore is not here tonight." She said sharply, "And I suggest you turn around and head back to your common room before I start deducting house points."

"What?" I gasped incredulously, not quite processing what she had said.

"Now, Miss Forester."

"But-"

"_Miss Forester_."

I sped back along the corridors and up stairs before her voice got any more dangerous; my eyes wide and fear coursing through me at her words. How long had Dumbledore not been at the school? What if he was out of sync with everything that was happening and really had no idea of what Malfoy was up to? There was something in Malfoy's tone that suggested whatever he was going to do was going to happen soon. Couldn't he have picked another night to leave the school?

I was so occupied with the restless anxiety pounding through my head that I didn't see the young man pacing a corridor on the fourth floor until I ran headlong into him.

"Oh sorry!" I trailed off slightly as I staggered back to my feet, noticing his lack of uniform, and definitely certain I had never had a teacher as good looking as he was. His red hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and I looked at the fang earring he was wearing with interest, "Who are you?"

"Bill Weasley," He gave an easy smile, although I didn't fail to notice he had his wand at the ready, "And you're not supposed to be out this late,"

"I know," I began quickly, "It's just I needed to find someone-"

"I've been instructed to make sure the corridors are empty and free of threat."

"Give over. I can barely jinx the side of a barn," I muttered, and he gave a laugh,

"You should get back to bed," He told me, "It's not safe out here."

For the first time this evening, I felt a rush of relief as he said that. Finally, somebody who was under the impression not everything was as it should be.

"I think there's something going on up on the seventh floor," I said hastily before he could stop me, determined to at least let one person know of my suspicions, "Something bad."

"We've already got someone up there." Bill Weasley said, unconcerned, "And I hate to be the person who says this, as I know how fun it is to play the avoiding Filch game, but you need to go back to your common room."

"Fine." I grumbled for the second time tonight, wondering if the universe was trying to tell me something.

It apparently changed its mind five minutes later when I ascended the last step in Ravenclaw Tower before I had to encounter the eagle door knocker, and was met by Terry, Antony, Luna, Michael Corner and Padma, all of whom were looking anxious and excited.

"I asked them all to check their coins," Terry told me eagerly, not bothering with a greeting, "And they're all red hot! We were going to go up to the seventh floor, that's where Luna said the Gryffindor common room is."

"It must be quite serious." Luna commented, her floaty voice not the least bit different, even with all the exhilaration from everyone around her, "Harry usually likes to shout when he wants to be heard. I suppose he didn't have time."

"They've got wizards patrolling the halls," I told them, "I just ran into one of them. I doubt we're going to remain undetected if we all traipse up to the seventh floor."

"But I think this is quite serious, Meg." Terry said, biting his lip, "And I think, just this once...we should ignore the rules."

That alone made me realise we should probably treat this seriously, as this was the first time, in six years of friendship, that Terry had proclaimed something worthy of rule breaking.

"Ok."

Getting through the corridors of Hogwarts alone and remaining undetected was challenge enough on a normal day. With six people, I was fairly sure it was going to end in disaster.

"If we run into a teacher," I whispered to Antony as we shrank back into the shadows as a ghost crossed the corridor up ahead, humming to itself, "We're going to lose at least sixty points."

Antony gave a shrug, looking at me with a glint of rebellion in his eyes,

"Gryffindor always win anyway."

I forced everyone to move aside and let me go first when we got to the sixth floor, ignoring the grumbling I was met with. I was overly cautious of the warning Malfoy had given me to go and stay in my common room. I didn't know what to expect, but for the time being I wanted to be careful, particularly if other people were out and about.

I snuck up a small flight of stairs that led up to the seventh floor, and along a corridor hung with warm red tapestries.

"I think we're near the common room, you know." Luna observed, looking at the dominant scarlet hangings with mild interest.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a portrait of a large woman in a pink dress swung open, and Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ron and Ginny Weasley all clambered out.

We all jumped when we caught sight of each other, and there was an awkward moment where everyone was frozen in place, rather uncomfortable.

"What the bloody hell are you lot doing here?" Ron finally asked.

"We got the message." Michael said a little weakly, holding up his DA coin.

"We need to go to the Room of Requirement," I cut in, as Ron looked between Michael and Ginny, and then sent Michael a nasty look. I hadn't realised he thought so little of him.

"We know," Hermione said, holding what looked like a map in her hands, "Harry told us that too. Here Ron, take this." She shoved the map into his hands, and looked around at us.

"Luna," She said, her eyes lighting on the wide eyed girl, "We need to go to the dungeons-"

"Hang on," I interrupted loudly, "We _all_ need to go to the Room of Requirement! There's something going on there!"

"The rest of us can all go," Terry said quickly as Hermione flicked me an irritated glance, "Meg, Neville, Ron, Ginny, Padma, Antony, Michael and me."

"Actually, I think someone should go and find a teacher," Ginny said in a determined tone, looking at the crowd before her as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Bagsy not me." I said quickly as her eyes grazed mine.

"Antony and I will go," Padma said hurriedly, grabbing his arm, "We'll find Dumbledore."

"Good luck with that." Ron and I said at the same time.

"He's gone," I finished, casting an apprehensive look at Ron and Hermione and receiving one in return. Maybe out of all the people I had told my suspicions to, it should have been them.

"Right," Hermione said hastily, with an air of finality, and began to march down the corridor, "Come on Luna."

"Hang on," Said Terry, "What exactly are we looking out for?"

"Malfoy." I said quietly, my heart flipping painfully in my chest, "He's up to something, Terry. Something bad."

"What?"

"We don't know." Ron said, "But come on, let's go. We're wasting time here."

"How did you find all this out?" Terry murmured as we set off towards the Room of Requirement, Ron and Ginny seeming quite unafraid of the possibility of running into teachers as they strolled ahead, heads bent over the map-like parchment.

"I guessed a lot of the time," I said, wondering how on earth to explain without letting in on the fact that I had had a hunch since October, "I worked it out...um...when I hit Malfoy in the face with the crystal ball and we walked this way."

"That was ages ago Meg!" Terry said in a loud whisper and was shushed by a worried-looking Neville, "You could have told me!"

I didn't say anything at this, rather consumed with regret at how this was all turning out because of my lack of expressing my concerns.

"He's not on the map," Ron was muttering to Ginny, "Harry told us he'd be up in the Room."

"What is this map?" I interrupted curiously, speeding up to peer over Ron's shoulder and feeling my eyes widen in amazement as I took in an intricate map of Hogwarts; every shortcut and corridor named. I looked closer, and saw tiny black dots that were labelled as people; moving around the castle.

I found the small cluster of spots up on the seventh floor, and felt my jaw drop in amazement as I saw _Megan Forester_ hovering right next to _Ronald and Ginevra Weasley_.

"That," I said weakly, "Is seriously cool."

"Here we are," Ron said darkly, looking up as we reached the corridor where the Room of Requirement lay.

The corridor was dark and deserted; a deathly quiet having fallen over the paintings and the tapestries. I felt a prickle of unease, as if the knowledge that something wasn't right was putting me on guard.

We crept up to the blank stretch of wall that was concealing the room, and waited.

And waited.

"What exactly are we expecting to happen?" Terry said, appraising the wall carefully,

"Urm," Ron said slowly, apparently none the wiser, "I dunno. A loud bang, or something?"

"Harry told us to watch out for Malfoy here," Ginny said, as if that was all we needed to know. "And make sure he doesn't do anything."

"Do you reckon we should get a teacher?" Ron asked, peering down the corridors as if in hope one would appear, "Professor McGonagall's just the floor below."

"We don't know what Malfoy's doing," Terry said in an agreeing tone, "That's probably a good idea. Meg, you go."

"No way!" I said, forgetting to keep my voice down. Everyone winced, and then glared at me. I decided going was probably the best thing for me right now.

I had nearly made it to the end of the corridor when I there was a loud cry from behind me and as I spun round, wand drawn, I was plunged into total darkness. Every detail in the corridors, the paintings, the rugs, the windows and beams of moonlight, were snuffed out; as if a blindfold had been pressed against my eyes. I shrank against the wall; my hands making contact with the cool stone, as I heard someone exclaim up ahead. At least I knew I hadn't gone blind if someone else was freaking out.

"_Lumos_." I tried, and felt a stab of dread when nothing happened. I had a feeling that this time, it wasn't my fault it hadn't worked.

I froze, stock still as I heard hurried footsteps heading in my direction. It rose to a crescendo, and I realised that a multitude of people were rushing towards me; silent and for some reason, I found it hauntingly unnerving.

I stayed exactly where I was, blind, as they passed by, my wand held uselessly in my grasp. I heard voices of the others down the hall, each trying different spells in an attempt to clear the dark.

Then, as if the sun had risen five times brighter and in the space of a second, light flooded before my eyes; and the corridor fell back into its moonlit glow, as if nothing had happened.

"What was that?" Said a high-pitched voice that sounded like Neville.

"This way, quickly!" Ron's voice yelled, pointing in the direction the footsteps had gone in, and we sprinted down the corridor, wands ready,

When a man hurtled round a corner, it took about five seconds to realise he was not a person needing to be hexed, but Professor Lupin.

"Professor!" Ron shouted, despite Lupin only being a few yards away, "Tonnes of people just came out the Room of Requirement!"

"The Order is here," Lupin said sharply, "You should get to safety-"

"We're not leaving!" Neville yelled, and I was taken aback at how determined he sounded. This was hardly the same person who fell of his tuffet every time Professor Trelawney looked at him, "We don't have time, Professor! They went that way!"

And Neville charged off without another word. I exchanged a glance with Terry, who gave a mild shrug, and we followed the rest of the group; all heading through the corridors.

Bill Weasley suddenly appeared as we emerged out onto the Grand Staircase, all of us breathless, and eyes darting around for our quarry.

"There are Death Eaters in the castle, Remus!" He barked, "Heading over to the Astronomy Tower. Minerva and Tonks went after them. Flitwick went to get Snape."

Lupin nodded, looking very pale,

"We'll follow Minerva. You all stay here, Ron."

"Not bloody likely!" Ron shouted after Lupin's retreating back, and he began to sprint towards the Astronomy Tower, everyone else hot on his heels; legs pumping, and breathing shallow.

We rounded a corner and emerged in the middle of a fully fledged battle.

I counted roughly seven Death Eaters; all masked and caped, all firing hexes that were rebounding off the walls and floors, making it look lethal to take another step forwards.

Up ahead, I saw a flash of a blonde head streak up the staircase to the upper floors of the Astronomy Tower. My heart suddenly felt like it had stopped.

A giant blond Death Eater glanced at the new arrivals, and within seconds had sent a green beam of light in our direction. Terry pushed me out of the way at the last second, and the wall behind us exploded; bricks and rubble flying out across the sea of people; dust rising in the air to combat the jets of colour flashing from wand tips.

"_Impedimenta_!" Terry yelled, and a red beam of light shot out from his wand; hurtling towards the Death Eater, who dodged out of the way just in time with a snarl.

I honestly couldn't say where I was, or where anyone else was. All I could catch sight of were beams of spells through the dust, and hoarse shouting and shadows of figures running about. Rubble was scattered everywhere, and whenever I went to turn my wand on someone, I realise they were on my side.

A thick hand grabbed my neck, hauling me backwards and a wheezy voice gave a giggle in my ear. On instinct, my elbow jutted out, catching the figure in the ribs, and they staggered back, giving me time to squirm from their grip.

"_Stupefy!" _I yelled, rounding on the squat Death Eater, giving a hoarse cry of frustration as it glazed just over their shoulder.

"Missed, my pretty!" The voice under the mask squawked, as I backed away, "_Crucio! CRUCIO!"_

I dived aside, my heart racing, grazing my knees on the debris as I dashed out of range, the Death Eater continuing to fire hexes in my direction.

An arm grabbed me, yanking me down towards the ground.

"Get down!" Neville bellowed, having seized my shoulders and now shoving me behind a makeshift barrier of fallen stone.

"Malfoy's gone up to the top of the tower!" I cried hoarsely over all the noise, squinting up over the barrier to look at the distance between here and the tower entrance. I doubted I was that fast a runner.

Two spells slammed into the rocks next to us; a shower of dust and smaller chunks flying out towards us,

"This way!" Neville yelled, rolling out of the cover and sprinting towards the doorway. I took a second to marvel at this new, heroic Neville.

Staggering to my feet and ignoring the twinge of pain coming from my ankle when I had fallen, I charged after him, feeling a lot less confident than he appeared; waiting to be hit with a curse any moment now,

A flash of light grazed my cheek; a spell missing me by inches,

"REDUCTO!" I screamed, firing the hex over my shoulder and hoping, not exactly for the first time ever, that I had actually hurt somebody. From the loud bang that issued from behind me and a hoarse shout, I assumed I had been successful.

I ran forwards, a stunning spell flying from my wand and missing a Death Eater by inches. He gave a pig-like squeal of rage, and brandished his wand in my direction.

The spell he shot at me knocked me backwards off my feet, and I hurtled sideways into the wall; crumpling painfully against the debris, completely winded and ruining my uniform with filth and dirt. Wonderful.

It suddenly seemed as if the Death Eaters were losing interest in the battle. Two of them dived through the doorway, dodging the hexes Neville was firing at them. One figure staggered up from the ground, and my heart gave a lurch as he stepped over a fallen body; disappearing up the steps as well.

Neville dived at the doorway as the rest of the Death Eaters vanished from sight, just leaving the massive blond Death Eater in his apparently illogical attack of firing hexes with no pattern or aim. Neville was thrown backwards across the room as he reached the doorway; as if an invisible force and pushed him away. I clambered to my feet as Ron tried to penetrate the invisible barrier, and he too was blasted aside like a rag doll.

"The doorway is sealed!" A voice cried roughly through the chaos, "We can't get through!"

"Snape!"

I looked up in horror as I heard the name; seeing the Potions master seeming to glide through the battle, drawing his wand as he went.

"No!" I shouted in horror, staggering forwards, my feet catching on stray wreckage, "Stop him!"

But my voice was lost amongst the racket, and with a swiftness that slotted right in with his bat-like appearance, Snape stepped over the barrier that had thrown the others so repeatedly back, and vanished from sight.

The next few minutes could have been seconds.

The large Death Eater was firing hexes nonstop, and for such a large man he was surprisingly quick and lithe on his feet; dodging all jinxes thrown his way.

He fired an enormous bought of light; seeming to aim at nothing in particular, which ricocheted off the nearest wall and hit the ceiling just above the sealed doorway.

With a thundering crash that seemed to shake the ground, the ceiling collapsed; huge slabs of stone hitting the floor and rebounding; clouds of dust blearing our eyes and matting with our hair.

Lupin staggered forwards; clambering over the stone and heading for the doorway. Before he could do so, Snape appeared; his hand clutching Malfoy by the scruff of his neck.

My heart lurched excruciatingly, and his eyes darted across the scene before him, eventually focusing on me.

He was pale and shaking, and as he looked at me I found it incredibly hard to look away.

Snape pushed through the crowd and I watched dully; my wand arm limp at my side.

There was a shout as the rest of the Death Eaters emerged, and once more the area was filled with the sound of cries and the harsh light of spells finding targets.

My eyes stayed fixed on Malfoy, and there was something in his expression, as if he wanted to tell me something; but at the same time, a kind of lifelessness that filled me with an unexplainable despair.

"It's over," Snape said, his voice travelling over the noise, cold and empty. "Time to go."


	28. Chapter 28

**Last chapter! I know it's shorter than normal, but I didn't want to stretch it out any longer than was needed. But I am writing another story about Meg and the insane things she does, so tough if you were getting sick of me ;)**

**Alas, I'm being sent to a place with no internet connection next week (my mum is calling it a holiday hah xD) so nothing is going to be posted- I apologise in advance!**

**I also wanted to say a huge thank you for all people who have read and commented...you kept making my day and made me so happy!**

**That's Nicky-Maree, Lily, Harriet, It'salwaysthequietones, JohnnyDeppIsMine, xXMizzAlecVolturiXx, HikaruWinter, Sherlein, Emma, Fizzybru, Adrienne Valentine, Derryn Flutt, TooMuchJelly, Donna, Flavia, LilithColbane, I n f i n i t e Masquerade, The HalfBloodAuthor, MeganAlice (good luck with your story!), MildredMyselfandI, Cherryblossom129, Innocent-Monster, Scarlet-Kandi, nightcirque, ArianaRitchie and especially Lixsabell! **

**D'awww sentimentality. I'll stop.**

**In which I rather lose my sense of humour, and summer starts rather jadedly.**

"Meg, what are you doing?"

Terry's voice screamed through the disorder, and I realised my feet were moving without my brain being completely conscious of it. Before I knew it, I was sprinting towards Malfoy as he was almost being dragged away by Snape; who was striding easily through the disorder, flicking fallen rubble from his path with his wand almost lazily. His face was dark with a clouded emotion I couldn't quite read, but right then I didn't care. I just wanted to reach Malfoy.

I raced forwards, dodging spells that were being fired desperately at the Death Eaters re-emerging from the staircase.

It took me a while to disentangle myself from the wreckage and follow them, dodging spells; and when I finally staggered down the next hallway, I dashed down a well-trodden shortcut; batting aside a tapestry and sprinting down the dusty hallway, tripping slightly on rug trestles in my haste.

My heart was thumping, and my mind seemed oddly dead; all I wanted right now was to reach Malfoy. The rest of the plan wasn't quite there.

I stumbled out from the other end of the secret passage just as Snape was passing by; Malfoy having freed himself and actually looking like he was about to burst into tears. I suppose I had kind of lost my head right now, and would later regret this. If there was a later.

"What have you done?" I cried, running straight at Malfoy. The Death Eater beside him cackled, flying a few hexes at me that missed by several centimetres. Malfoy's eyes were pleading, begging with me. I didn't heed his gaze, but grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him towards me,

"What have you done?" I repeated, not moving my gaze from his eyes. He was ashen faced and trembling, his eyes looking desperately into mine. Imploring.

A spell hit me square in the chest, coming from right under Malfoy's arm and I was thrown backwards. I think that may have knocked some sense into me.

Unfortunately, in that moment it was a little bit too late, as my vision was obscured by a dark figure; my mind inadvertently interpreting him as a wolf at first glance. There was a ferociousness in his eyes that was almost feral. His hair was grey and matted; and when he leered down at me, I felt what I considered to be a perfectly rational frisson of fear run through me, as I was met with yellowed, pointed teeth; blood matted in his whiskery beard as if he'd just finished eating something I didn't care to think about. In short, he was exactly the kind of person I didn't want leaning over me right now.

"We've got time for a little snack." He growled, leaning closer towards me. For some reason, my legs were proving absolutely useless as I sat, unable to move a muscle in a heap on the floor; powerless to look away from his bloodstained mouth. Before I had really grasped what was happening, he yanked me upwards by my hair; and sniffed me. To an onlooker, perhaps it would have been quite funny; but I felt a wave of nausea, and suddenly, fainting seemed like a really great idea.

"We have to go, Fenrir!" Said one of the shorter, stumpy Death Eaters; his expression unreadable owing to the mask covering his face.

"C'mon, Amycus," The man snarled in my ear; his grip on my hair tightening painfully, "Just a little bite."

"I'd really rather you didn't," I said weakly, though it somehow got lost in my throat, and I doubted anyone heard me.

I flicked my gaze to Malfoy, who was standing there completely frozen; his face pale. He wasn't saying anything.

"Go on, Fenrir!" Giggled the other Death Eater, her mask slipping slightly as she wheezed, revealing small, malevolent eyes, "Rip her throat out!"

"Get moving, all of you!" Snape hissed, one hand seizing the back of my robes and wrenching me from the larger man's clutches, "The Order aren't far behind."

And with that, he threw me aside as if I weighed virtually nothing. I hit the stone wall hard, and let out a yelp of agony.

The large man tossed me a regretful look, but had appeared to have actually listened to Snape, moving off with the other Death Eaters, after a longing look in the direction of my throat.

"Draco," Snape's voice cut through the growing shouts as what Snape had called 'the Order' drew closer, "Move."

But Malfoy was still staring at me, his eyes wide, and with what felt like most of my body aching, I forced my gaze up to meet his.

"Thanks for the help." I whispered hoarsely, not quite having the energy to summon a more sarcastic tone.

He whispered something, something that came out in a hoarse murmur that he couldn't seem to say louder. I was fairly sure it was 'I'm sorry'.

And with that, Snape doubled back; grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him along the corridor, leaving me crumpled against the wall and staring after Draco; wondering why every step he took seemed to add to the hurt my body was feeling.

There was a loud pounding of footsteps, and Harry Potter suddenly sprinted past, his face contorted with an anguished expression that was probably reflected on my face too. I couldn't even muster surprise at his sudden appearance, and instead waved a feeble hand in the direction Snape and Malfoy had vanished.

"They went that way," I tried to say as he ran past, but it came out as a weak croak. I really needed to get up. I'd just kind of forgotten how.

"Meg."

Harry was long gone when that voice had spoken, not that my mind had really registered the amount of time, and I looked up blearily to see Terry; leaning down towards me, his expression tender.

"Come on," He said gently, putting his hands under my armpits and yanking me upwards, "You need to go to the hospital wing."

I tried to mutter a protest, but he ignored me, so I instead took to staring at my feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other. It seemed a lot harder than it used to be, all of a sudden.

"Is she ok?" A exhausted voice asked, that I recognised as Lupin's; concerned hands forcing my face upwards to look into a pair of soft brown eyes,

"I think so, sir. Just a little shocked."

"Madame Pomfrey will look after her. She's already taking care of Neville and Bill. The others are down there too."

It was like the time I had passed out after the Quidditch match, except this time I was fully aware of being conscious, but everything felt like a horrible dream that was impossible to wake up from.

I was sitting on a bed in the hospital wing, a blanket round my shoulders and an empty, still smoking goblet next to me when things started to seem more real, however harshly so. It was like something had been clogged in my ears, and now cleared the world pressed in on me, details that were blurred now lucid and clear.

Over on the bed next to me was the handsome man who I had met in the corridor earlier. That seemed like a lifetime ago. I could only catch glimpses through the crowd of people at his bedside, but he was barely recognisable. His skin looked like it had been ripped apart; teeth haven bitten into his flesh; as if an animal had viciously attacked him.

"But he wasn't bitten at a full moon," Ron's voice was saying shakily from the crowd of people looking at Bill, "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a-a real-?"

"No, I don't think Bill will be a true werewolf," Lupin finished, and there was a creaking of a chair as someone sat down. I stared down at my hands, my brain now recognising the man in the corridor who had resembled a wolf. He had had blood around his mouth. I shuddered, pressing my nails into my hands.

Then my ears caught something else, through the tangled conversation taking place.

"Ron," Ginny said, her voice dull with shock, "Dumbledore's dead."

My heart felt oddly lifeless as the listeners gasped. I think I had reached the point where I was giving up on hearing good news.

Harry began to speak, and through his words my brain formed a picture. How Malfoy had fixed the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, and how the Death Eaters had entered due to him. How Malfoy had been instructed to kill Dumbledore, but in the end he couldn't, leaving it to Snape. _Malfoy_. It was all Malfoy.

And I couldn't get the image from my head of him simply looking on as Fenrir's teeth had got closer to my neck.

"Are you alright, Meg?" Antony's voice asked, and the bed's weight shifted as he sat down next to me, sporting a rather impressive black eye.

"No, not really." I said with the feeblest, most humourless laugh ever. And with that, Antony put an arm around my shoulders, and as if waiting for that cue, I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest and started to cry.

I'd never caught the train back to Platform 9 and ¾ in such a subdued atmosphere. The usual shouts of laughter and loud goodbyes were absent; as were the usual jinxes a few students like to hand out before they could escape for the summer. Last year I had been one of them, but I'd been carefully avoiding thinking about exactly who it was I had hexed as I sat in the corner of a compartment; Terry and Antony with me. Padma's parents had arrived the morning after the fight, taking her and her twin sister, Parvati home. I had to say I wasn't exactly helping the misery that was sweeping the train. The majority of the journey I stayed in my seat; looking out the window as the mountains gradually flattened into smooth hills, and suburbia eventually reclaimed the landscape.

Despite me staring out the window; determinedly fixing my gaze on houses and their small, neat gardens, which were gradually growing smaller and smaller as London grew closer, my mind was straying back to the castle that, for the first time ever, I hadn't looked back at longingly as the train moved away. The reason being that it had changed so much this year, or even in the past few days, and how in those intricate corridors of Hogwarts; where the warm coloured tapestries and delicate glass windows seem to soothe my soul, I knew that things were not going to be the same again.

"I think an ice-cream at Florean Fortescue's would go a long way right now," Antony said, breaking the long stretch of glum silence as he got to his feet when the train started to slow; stretching his arms over his head.

"Can we not?" I asked, using my voice properly for what felt like the first time in hours, looking away from the window and blinking at the sudden change in light between the train lit carriage and the fading light outside. "Can we go and get fish and chips?"

"I thought you turned your nose up at it last year for being too 'Muggle-y'?" Antony said, frowning. Terry, however, lowered his book, and gave me a look that was far too understanding for my liking. I think he had guessed I was eager to avoid magic for a while. Its connotations led me too close to Hogwarts and what had taken place there just a few days ago. And the last thing I wanted to see were the wanted posters of loose Death Eaters in Diagon Alley.

"Yeah, let's. I'll tell Jade you're going to be late."

Dumbledore's funeral had been that morning, which was definitely the reason for the cloud of gloom hanging over the heads of everyone as people started to disembark the train.

For once, it had been a sunny day; the lack of rain seeming to be just for Dumbledore as the whole school sat in seats by the lake to say their last goodbye to the headmaster.

For me, it hadn't really felt to do him justice; the wildly eccentric man who could cast a feeling of safety and security over me even if he was on the other side of the castle. The boring speech was so far from Dumbledore's crazy tendencies that it felt like it was someone else's funeral; which was much easier to imagine than face the truth. On top of that, there had been too many people there, particularly from the Ministry, who had come to pretend to care. It had felt too insincere and fake. I preferred to ignore the speech and instead lose myself within my own memories of Dumbledore, with his random words before dinner, or the way he could fill the whole of the Great Hall with a warmth when he addressed the students, his blue eyes twinkling happily.

I'd seen Harry afterwards, and wasn't surprised to see he was one of the more miserable figures heading back up to the castle. I'd run to catch up with him, though when I arrived at his side, any words I might have said vanished slightly.

"How are you?" I had finally asked weakly, and he cast me a look that summed up his feelings, rendering my question as totally stupid. Yet there was a fierce determination burning in his green eyes that had somehow lifted my spirits, and installed a curiosity in me.

"You knew about Malfoy, didn't you?" Harry had asked, looking glumly up at the castle. I couldn't quite bring myself to look at it; the desire to leave this place almost overwhelming. Harry mentioning the person I had been trying to overlook at the moment sent a shooting pain into my heart.

"Mostly." I said weakly, wondering if he was angry at me. I knew I was.

"Perhaps we should feel sorry for him, wherever he is now." Harry had sighed resignedly, running a hand through his untidy hair.

"No, we shouldn't." I snapped, surprising even myself with the venom in my voice. "He caused all of this!"

"I don't think he had a choice. It was Snape. It was all Snape."

"We could have worked it out," I said, staring at the intricate patterns in the long grass, "What if we had."

"I told Dumbledore about Malfoy. He trusted Snape. It's my fault. I should have shown him the book."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but we both had seemed pretty encased in our own guilt, so we both jumped slightly when Ron's voice cut sharply across us.

"It was nobody's fault."

A minute later he and Hermione appeared beside us. Hermione's face was tear streaked, her arm wrapped around Ron's torso, as if they had just been hugging. "Except Snape's, maybe."

"What happened has happened." Hermione said, wiping her eyes. I suddenly felt extremely out of place standing with these three great friends, each there to support each other, "But we need to talk, Harry."

"I'll be going." I said quietly, the feeling of fourth wheel having heightened.

"Don't beat yourself up," Ron told me, "Nobody could have guessed what Snape was capable of. Or Malfoy."

"And Meg?" Harry said as I turned away, angry at the fact my eyes were stinging now.

"Huh?"

"Have a good summer."

The smoky London air was almost a relief as we wheeled our trunks out of King's Cross station, Sampson hooting madly in his cage at passersby; seeming to revel in the wide-eyed stares he received.

We headed down a poky, dirty alley where a dingy shop announced it sold 'Fish n Chips' in peeling letters, causing us to bring our heavy trunks to a halt.

"I think it's better if I go in alone," Terry said, casting a look at Sampson and our trunks, "Anyone got any Muggle money?"

We heaped together enough for some food, and he disappeared into the murky shop, leaving us to deal with the curious looks as people walked past; probably wondering if we were some sort of runaway circus act on the move. I settled myself down on top of my trunk, heaving a sigh, my chin resting on my hands dolefully.

All I could think about was how stupid I had been. Why hadn't I worked out what Malfoy was doing? And why hadn't I pressed him until he had told me? This whole thing might have been prevented if I hadn't been so preoccupied with flirting, or with staring hungrily at his lips. It was almost painful to think of that part of me now. I couldn't take Ron's advice on not blaming myself; not yet. And there was still that image of Greyback leering down at me, Malfoy standing behind him, powerless. A dull anger that had been living in my chest this week flared up once again.

Antony's hand patted my back as he perched next to me, making me jump. I turned to look at the sad smile on his face,

"It'll be ok, Meg." He said, "Things have a way of sorting themselves out. The Ministry will look after Hogwarts."

I hadn't told him any of the guilt I felt eating away inside of me, and right now he sounded so reassured and confident I didn't argue, but I gave him a feeble smile that I didn't mean, and that didn't feel right on my face at all.

Terry staggered out the shop soon after; three, greasy wrappings of chips in his hands.

"You know, I think Dumbledore would approve of this," Terry said eventually, breaking the silence had consumed us once again, "He loved all that crazy Muggle stuff."

That earned us a confused glare from a passing old lady.

"Everything is going to change now," I whispered to my feet, swallowing my chip with difficulty. I had seemed to have mastered the art of killing conversations quite impressively recently, for nobody spoke for a while.

"We can face it, you know." Terry finally said confidently as he stuffed a chip in his mouth, "We've got Harry Potter, and all those other people who fought that night; they'll keep fighting."

"Plus, we make a pretty awesome team ourselves." Antony chimed in, gulping down huge mouthfuls noisily, "We can take whatever next year throws at us."

Underneath the gloom and aching my heart was throbbing with, I felt a small stirring of hope. Here, staring at the details around them in a dingy London side alley, sat the two people I had been friends with since we were eleven years old, and people I hoped to be friends with for many years to come. I could sit down and reminisce with them over levitating feathers, or dropping pygmy puffs off towers; and I think that underneath their optimism, they were as scared as I was of what was yet to come. I decided that, in some respects, the best parts of Hogwarts left every summer on the train.

They were right, I thought, smiling faintly, at the pair of them. Even if my worst fears came true, and that feeling of guilt stayed in my chest forever, they would be there.

And I really quite liked the sound of that.


End file.
